


Blood, Ice, Water

by orphan_account



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Hockey, Alternate Universe - Skating, Anxiety, Friends to Lovers, Hockey, Ice Skating, M/M, Strangers to Lovers, and there's no magic in this universe, they're both into ice sports is really what i'm trying to get at
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-20
Updated: 2020-05-20
Packaged: 2021-02-28 23:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 24,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23235118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Scorpius Malfoy has his routine. Figure skating in the morning, school, figure skating in the evening, in bed at 8 o'clock. He doesn't have room for much else. Al Potter is probably some hot-headed bully who would break his hockey stick hitting Scorpius over the head. He's definitely just pretending to be nice.
Relationships: Scorpius Malfoy/Albus Severus Potter
Comments: 129
Kudos: 326





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I started this over a year ago and still haven't finished. I hope you all enjoy. I will post trigger warnings for applicable chapters. TW for this chapter: mentions of disordered eating (skip paragraphs 4-6)

Like most days and events and really anything at all as it pertained to himself, the 17th of December was a disaster for Scorpius. Not a real disaster. But it seemed like the universe wanted to get a few good jabs in, all at once. That was fairly typical.

Take, for example, Scorpius’ first day of secondary school. Not only had he overslept for the first time in his life, but he also spilled jam all over his new school uniform, and then the other kids made fun of him for knowing what the endoplasmic reticulum was. Apparently, it’s not cool to know the subject matter before the course begins. Apparently, no one else reads the whole textbook before classes start. But no matter.

The 17th of December started out like any regular day. His alarm had sounded at 4:25. He sat straight up in bed, his white-blond hair sticking out at every angle. A friend once referred to his bed head as resembling a baby’s depiction of the sun. Then, still in his pyjamas, he shook off the covers and meandered over to the foam roller to massage his legs and lower back. That absolutely killed. It made him want to shriek aloud, but heavens knows that he would wake up half the neighborhood and the police would be on their doorstep to investigate a murder. Scorpius would have to explain that the allegations were untrue; he just had extremely sore muscles. 

Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he would pull on his training clothes and trot downstairs. His father would be asleep, so he’d silently assemble his breakfast. It was always the same thing, every day. Most people got tired of monotony in their foods, but Scorpius never minded it. A full bowl of grape-nut flake cereal with 2% milk, a glass of kiwi juice, and half of an orange. He ate like an elderly man and he was proud of it. Fruit was delicious and raisin bran was superior. The other half of the orange would be put in a plastic bag and would serve as his post-morning-skate snack, along with a chocolate chip granola bar. 

His trainer, Clarice, hated his high sugar intake, but there wasn’t much she could do about that. When Scorpius had been a teenager, with a monstrous appetite and a near-fanatic love of the sport of figure skating, he’d been the only boy in a training group full of teenage girls. Weight was the center of every locker room discussion. Everyone was hyper-conscious of it, though it didn’t have a huge role in anything skated-related on a technical level. Scorpius had read into it extensively. Sure, if you did partner skating, then there was the issue of being held in the air. But that was your partner’s problem, if they couldn’t hold you in the air. It meant they hadn’t lifted enough weights that week. 

Regardless, it was an issue. Scorpius had told his father about some of the food-related language that he heard during warm-ups. Calorie-related language, to be precise. Scorpius knew from his reading that a balanced meal was more important than a finite amount of energy intake, expressed in calories, but he thought that his fellow ice-skaters had not gotten the memo. After glancing at the meal plans, his father had stormed into Clarice’s office. To this day, Scorpius wasn’t sure what his father had said, but they’d been re-issued meal plans, this time without any mention of calorie goals. 

Following breakfast, he walked half a mile to the train station. His train stop was the end of the line. The trains remained in a sort of parking lot to the side of tracks, eerily silent and empty without their passengers. He always took the first train. A total of five people took the first train, and four of them were doctors living in the area. The other was the skinny blond boy with the bulky bag who wore winter clothes no matter what the weather was like outside.

Yep, that was him. Scorpius Malfoy, figure-skater extraordinaire. Enthusiast might be the better word. Scorpius hesitated to say that he was extraordinary at anything, despite what his father told him.

His journey to the rink was rather haphazard. He walked to a train, and then he got off one train and onto another, and then took a bus, and then walked a little more. He technically could get to the rink by walking to the train and then walking the rest of the way, but he liked the hum of the subway. He didn’t particularly like being smothered by other people during peak hour. He didn’t like the creepy men on the train, the ones that asked him if he knew how to have a good time. Spoiler alert: he didn’t even know what a good time was until he told his father about the incident. His dad had flown into a rage, both at the idea of someone proposing such a lewd act to his precious son and at Scorpius’ miserable sex education. 

On reflection, Scorpius realized that he sounded a bit incapable, like he needed his father to do everything for him. Or that his father had anger management issues. Both allegations were untrue. His father liked to do everything for him. There was a difference. He was overprotective. Scorpius had the sense that his grandmother and grandfather, who died when he was very young, would not have been candidates for parents of the year when his dad was a kid. He also had the sense that his father desperately wanted to combat his parents’ reputation. Therefore, while most teenagers hemmed and hawed at the idea of their parents interfering, Scorpius quietly tolerated it.

Someone dropped their briefcase. The impressive boom that emanated jolted Scorpius from his thoughts momentarily before he returned to his pondering.

What he did like about taking public transportation everywhere was the base, human aspect of it. Everyone was themselves on the train, whether they wanted to be or not. People had their worst moments on the train and their best moments. People had their quietest moments, too. Scorpius thought those were the best. Watching someone he didn’t know and probably wouldn’t ever know go about their daily routine, the same way he was… it instilled hope in Scorpius. A little bit, in an exceptionally weird and creepy way. 

The best part was that no one knew Scorpius. He could be whoever he wanted to be. Not that he wasn’t anything but his authentic self. But it thrilled him, knowing that if he wanted to, he could pretend to be German. Or a college student. Or a lawyer downtown. No one would know who his father was, or what school he’d gone to, or why he was even on the train in the first place.

Poetic, wasn’t it, for five past five in the morning? He marvelled at himself for a moment. His own weirdness occasionally caught him by surprise. 

Nothing unusual happened during his journey to the rink on December 17th. And nothing unusual happened during practice, either. He did his warm-up laps, his crossovers, his lunges. He did his pivots, his turns, his jumps, his axels. There were more specific words for everything he did, but he found that the words didn’t translate to what he was accomplishing. Choctaws did not seem like they should be named choctaws. The same goes for shooting the duck. The nonsensical words and phrases failed to capture the elegance and coordination required to perform them. He practiced his program twice without music and three times with music. And finally, he did his cool-down laps.

What was unusual about the 17th of December was that Scorpius got coffee from the rink café after practice, instead of the more posh, upscale coffee shop across the street. The coffee was overpriced and underwhelming in flavor, but he went for the atmosphere. Today, however, he had decided to vary his morning routine. He wasn’t sure what compelled him to do that. His routine was what he treasured most about his day. The unscheduled parts were what he detested. Yet he continued on breaking the norm. Instead of hustling to school, he decided to stick around the rink.

Clarice had offered him a job two years ago as a skating instructor for the little kids, but he simply hadn’t had the time. Maybe today he could lead warm-up. 

He plucked his laced-up skates from where he had left them and slung them over his shoulder, determined to do something a little different today. One of his boots was already half-off when he walked onto the space alongside the rink. Scorpius did not get much farther than that.

It seemed that he’d neglected to check the schedule. For while he’d thought there was a youth beginner’s skating practice that followed elite training, there was a crowd of people decidedly taller than five and six year olds. Some were taller than he was, and Scorpius considered himself to be on the taller side. It was a hockey team. A local high school’s hockey team, to be precise; he recognized their snake logo. 

Scorpius had seen hockey before, once or twice. His father nearly enrolled him into a class as a toddler until he remembered that the violence in hockey can be abhorrent and had him pulled before Scorpius’ name even made it onto the Mini Mite roster.

His impression of hockey was similar to that of his father’s. A lot of board-slamming. A lot of violence. A lot of missing teeth. A testosterone-fueled nightmare, in Scorpius’ humble opinion.

But he was intrigued. He couldn’t help being intrigued. In every written evaluation Scorpius had ever received, the teacher made a note of his curiosity. “Sometimes,” one memorable comment read, “Scorpius’ curiosity leads him off-topic in the most delightfully strange ways. I appreciate his thirst for knowledge, but I’m not sure how he gets from octopi to the significance of the monarchy in the Middle East. He is a very advanced fourth grader.”

The hockey team clambered onto the ice without sparing Scorpius any notice. He liked it better that way. The kinds of boys that do hockey are also the kinds of boys who are not very nice to boys who figure skate.

They lazily skated about, squirting water in-between the grate of their helmets, pushing each other around and laughing. The goalie practiced blocking shots. Despite all of his awkward extra padding, he was able to manipulate his feet and knees and arms to block and catch shots without a second thought. He didn’t make a single mistake.

A group of boys was taking shots on an empty net. One - Scorpius couldn’t quite make out his number - was particularly skilled with curving his shot. The puck sliced through the air under his guidance and hit the upper right-hand corner of the net. Scorpius considered clapping but thought better of it.

“Stalking, are we now?” 

Scorpius nearly shot four feet into the air. He took a steadying breath of air. “Hi, Clarice.”

Her eyes fell on his skates. “Want a career change? I don’t think you have the build for hockey, but I could get you there.”

Scorpius chuckled. “No thanks.”

They watched in silence for a few moments. Clarice took the time to re-do her hair. She always wore a bun so tight that Scorpius worried it would make her hairline evaporate.

“Do I notice a few gray hairs? Is that because of me?” Clarice narrowed her eyes.

“Very funny.” Scorpius smiled widely, clasping his hands together. He was awarded with a twitch of the mouth as she tried to keep a straight face.

“I thought about leading warm-up today, like you mentioned awhile ago. I don’t think these guys belong in a beginner’s class, though.”

“I mean, you could try to call those kids beginners. I think they would whoop your ass to Mars and back, but there’s no harm in trying.”

Scorpius nodded. He considered the logistics of getting his ass whooped hundreds of thousands of miles. Would the slap itself generate the energy required to make him move? How far would he move in the vacuum of space? How much time would it take him?

“I can see your gears whirring from here.” Scorpius blinked once, twice. “What are you thinking about in that big head of yours?”

At best, Clarice tolerated his tangents. He had an inkling that today would not be a good day for getting side-tracked by his imagination. He fumbled for another question. “Do you know those kids? The ones practicing?”

If Clarice found the question out of the ordinary, she did not comment. Instead, she said, “I know the goalie and the best forward. Everyone else is in our database but I don’t know their names off the top of my head.”

“Who’s the goalie?”

“That’s Rose Weasley. She’s a tough one.”

“I thought that was a guy’s team.”

“Her hair’s buzzed off, so you would have a hard time telling the difference even without the helmet. She’s damn good is what she is, and the team is co-ed anyway. Well, it is technically, but not many girls are jumping to play. Poisonous men, or whatever it is you said to me that one time.”

“Toxic masculinity?”

“Yeah, what you said.” Clarice shook her head. Possibly in disbelief, possibly with the intention of being humorous, possibly to mean something else. Scorpius couldn’t tell at this point. Clarice did a lot of the same actions that meant dramatically different things depending on the context. A pointed finger could mean, “You’re in big trouble,” but it could also mean “pay attention,” and it could also mean “you’re the best skater in this goddamn competition.” 

She continued on. “The forward is named Albus Potter. He’s only a sophomore, but he’s already been contacted by the lead schools in the country. The Ivy Leagues and the state schools alike. He hates the attention, though. He tells me to make the scouts go away. His father… well, you’ve heard of his father, right?”

“No.”

“Of course you haven’t.” Clarice had known Scorpius since he was four years old. Every time, she managed to be surprised that he knew so much about certain things and nothing about others. Scorpius had tried to tell her in the past that there were multiple types of intelligence and he just happened to lack social intelligence, but she never remembered. “Harry Potter is one of the best hockey players of all time. It’s like… it’s like if Nathan Chen were your father. It doesn’t help that he’s the spitting image of Harry.”

“I can imagine.” Scorpius pictured his father in ice skates. He then saw an onslaught of images involving his father doing effortless axels in competitions. He quickly discarded those. His daydreams were too fanciful. For all his father’s strict upbringing, his grace was lacking. 

“Oh, speak of the devil.” A player was stumbling towards the boards. He took off his helmet and spat his mouthguard into his palm, leaving a trail of spit from his mouth. Scorpius wrinkled his nose.

“Hey, Clarice. What’s the hot gossip?”

“Hello, Albus.” Albus bit back a grin. Scorpius stared at him through the glass. This hockey boy had freckles all over his nose. Scorpius had never gotten freckles; he spent too much time indoors, and his skin was far too pale to get freckles in the first place. He wished as a child that there was a magic spell that could make him grow freckles. 

They had a brief conversation that Scorpius paid no mind to. He was too busy thinking about inventing a lamp that could give someone freckles. But the radiation from the heat… that couldn’t be good. There must be another way. Make-up?

“Don’t you have an exam to get to?” Clarice’s voice cut through his thoughts, slicing them into choppy ribbons. Scorpius glanced down at his watch. He was fifteen minutes behind schedule.

“Goodness gracious.” He almost slapped a hand over his mouth for cursing, but he saw Clarice’s shoulders beginning to stiffen. She wrinkled her nose to hold back her laughter. There was no way he was going to embarrass himself in front of the hockey boy for being himself. “I’ll see you later!” He began to walk briskly back towards the rink exit. 

He threw his skates back over his shoulder. Without thinking, he turned around. Clarice was gesturing towards her notepad. Albert - Albus? Yes, Albus - was watching him go. Maybe, Scorpius thought, he could embarrass himself just a little bit. He decided to shout, “You are very good at hockey!” It was stupid and impulsive and he wanted to swallow the words as soon as he had said them. He shouldn’t have said that. Albus probably thought that he was a total idiot. He didn’t even know him. Now that he was thinking clearly, Albus definitely looked like a bully. 

The other boy hesitated. Then, Albus (or was it Al?) beamed. It was the sort of smile that takes over your face without you meaning for it to. He gave a short wave before skating away. 

In the grand scheme of things, most things in Scorpius’ life were unusual. But December 17th was the start of the most unusual sequence of events in Scorpius’ life to date.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: panic attack (stop reading between Scorpius saying "I'm fine" and continue when he says "That was unusual")

The continuation and eventual conclusion of December 17th was mostly uninteresting. Scorpius was nearly late to his calculus exam. He munched on his orange and granola bar on the bus ride over, listening to his podcast on historical clothes sewing. The techniques for hand-stitching were absolutely fascinating. He tried not to worry about tardiness. It was hard, as it was an examination day, but he stifled it down best he could through the relaxing sound of someone explaining the technique of the reverse appliqué. 

When he arrived with two minutes to spare, the teacher directed him to his assigned table. She handed out a stack of papers to each student and informed them that they had two hours. Scorpius was out the door in under an hour. He had checked his work over three times and was starting to fidget to the point of distracting others. His teacher collected his papers and told him to have an early lunch. All of his teachers were used to him at this point. It was a fairly large high school, but with a name like Scorpius and a personality to match, it was hard to escape notoriety. 

He hustled to the lunch room. Cradling a large bowl of soup, several pieces of bread with melted cheese, a small salad, and two apples, he sat down by himself at a corner table by the window. He flicked through the daily crossword, penning down an answer occasionally, but mostly he mulled over his food. Cafeteria food was nothing to get excited about, but Scorpius was easily excited. December 17th’s soup of the day was a slightly-more-than-mediocre broccoli cheddar. 

Scorpius had grown used to being strange. No one else had such weird interests or looked forward to knowing the daily soup selection. Everyone else had different interests. Normal interests, like kissing girls and partying or whatever. He could understand the appeal of some of that in theory. But kissing girls had no appeal to him, and girls shared the same sentiment about him. And if parties were all about kissing girls, then what was the point of going?

He had more friends when he was younger, but they had largely outgrown him during high school. Scorpius still lived in a world of imagination and fun facts. They were far more concerned with the aforementioned parties and girls than the “This day in history!” section of the newspaper. Or the newspaper, full stop. 

That’s not to say that he was a loner. He had people who sat with him. And by people he meant two people. One of them was named Theodore. Theodore wanted to be a food magazine editor when he was older. He joined Scorpius for meals sometime to pick apart the dishes. Scorpius would add to the conversation his knowledge of historical cooking. Theodore wasn’t a bad lunch partner, but he was often busy with writing for the school newspaper or doing his homework for his next classes. While Theodore was a genius at describing flavors and arranging them, he was a horrendous procrastinator, something Scorpius could never understand. Homework was to be done the night it was assigned, no exceptions.

There was also Annabelle. Annabelle used to be on the cheerleading team until she called the cheer captain something far too crude for Scorpius’ liking. It wasn’t the outburst that made her Scorpius’ friend, though. She had a love bordering on obsession for logic puzzles. Scorpius, ever the crossword enthusiast, found common ground, and they had lunch together most days. Today, though, she was meeting with some school administrators to work through her accommodations for her examination schedule. Teachers found scheduling exams for people who needed extra time arduous and often left it until the last minute.

There was no more to read in the local newspaper, so he turned to the school’s instead. The high school newspaper lacked a crossword and unfortunately included a gossip column. He had mentioned his complaints to Theodore, but Theodore had simply chuckled and said that his expectations were far too high. Scorpius was miffed. Regardless, the paper would stimulate him until he needed to take his next exam. He flipped through it before landing on the sports section.

“Raven’s Academy falls to West Lion High… there were scouts at the game, but not for any of our team members… rather, Al Potter ‘22 of West Lion…”

“I know that guy,” Scorpius said to himself. He moved on to another article.

The history exam went by as expected. He finished early, chewed on his pencil, his teacher told him to leave even though time hadn’t been called. It was followed by Scorpius’ walk back to the bus stop and his bus ride back to the rink. This time, however, he went to the gym nearby. He had to get his off-ice work-out in for the day before he could do some extra skating.

After a four-mile jog, Scorpius did some deep stretching. Clarice walked into the room to make sure he was okay but didn’t stay long enough to listen to him ramble about what he learned while listening to his educational podcast, this time about a comprehensive history of tea in Asia. He was only on episode four of fifteen in a limited series. 

Finally, it was time for him to skate once more. He reviewed his program three more times after again going through the mechanics of warm-up and complex jumps. Clarice yelled guidance as he worked through the sequences that were giving him trouble.

After practice, she put a hand on his shoulder while he packed up. “You’ll never guess who was asking after you today.” Was she making a joke? No, she wouldn’t. He went for the obvious answer. 

“My father.”

“No. Albus Potter.”

“That’s interesting.” Scorpius looked up from his shoelaces.

“He thought you were quite nice.” Clarice didn’t respond. She rubbed Scorpius’ shoulder in what he assumed was meant to be comforting. It instead felt like she didn’t quite know what to do with her hands. He didn’t want her touching him, but he had learned long ago that Clarice didn’t really take criticism. Or suggestions.

“You should stay after your morning practice tomorrow. They have another morning slot.”

“Maybe.”

“Think about it.”

Scorpius let his head drop. “I have friends, you know.”

“I didn’t say anything about having friends.” Scorpius didn’t respond. He returned to the task of lacing up his sneakers. He grabbed his bag out of the locker room and headed back to catch the bus. 

As he slumped down in his seat, on his final train home, he pondered the Al problem. There was no way that the other boy was actually interested in being his friend. It must be some set-up, he concluded. He pitied him for his outburst. And Clarice was in on it, whatever “it” was. He decided that the right way to approach this was to leave his individual practice as soon as he could to avoid contact. That seemed like the rational thing to do.

His father was already home when he walked through the door. “Hello, Scorpius. How was your day?” Scorpius gave him a minute-by-minute account of his day, including everything about his exams, practice, his podcast, his opinion of the crossword hints (“Fourteen down was far too ambiguous!” “It was ingenious, Scorp, I’m not sure what you mean.”), and everything in between. The one thing he neglected to ramble on about was the new person he met.

They continued their avid discussion over dinner. They usually ate right when Scorpius came home, as that was when he was most hungry. His snacking throughout the day didn’t prevent him from having a voracious appetite.

After dinner (mashed potatoes, marinated chicken breast, asparagus, brown rice, arugula salad, peach slices for dessert), Scorpius walked up the stairs to his room. He quickly dictated a text to Theodore about whether fruit should be thought of as dessert before sitting down at his desk to study for his physics exam. He raced through a few final problems and mumbled aloud the essential equations. After maybe an hour, he stood up, cracked his back, and sat down by the foam roller.

He didn’t have time for friends outside of school. Maybe it was only eight in the evening, but he had to go to bed in half an hour anyway. There was too much to focus on. Skating, schoolwork, his father, skating. Anyway, he liked it like that. Sort of.

Another unusual thing about December 17th is that Scorpius did not fall asleep immediately. He tossed and turned from side to side. For whatever reason, he could not get Al’s freckles out of his head. His freckle invention was seemingly out of his reach. That was further proof that Scorpius needed to stay as far away from Al Potter as possible. He could not afford distractions.

*

Al Potter was like a burr, Scorpius had decided. Clarice was the bush trying to pass him on.

“You're leaving a bit early.” She had a habit of sneaking up on him. He squeaked and dropped his skate. Thank goodness for the blade guards; he could have sliced through his other foot. 

“Positive. I have an exam. Physics. Very important.” 

Clarice raised a perfectly manicured eyebrow. Scorpius made the mistake of asking her one time how she got them to be shaped so well. He learned a lot about women’s hygiene that day that he wished he could have forgotten. “Is everything okay?”

“Splendid.” Like Splenda, the sugar that his dad preferred in his tea. Splendid was such a pleasant word. He made a mental note to look up its etymology after practice on his way to school.

“Where’s Mr. Ramble?” 

Scorpius had been finished with this conversation since its start. “On sabbatical.”

“I didn’t know you could make jokes.” He slung his skating bag over his shoulder and started to stand up. Clarice’s hand on his shoulder forced him back down onto the bench. “I told the hockey kids that you’d show them how to do a jump. I think it'll be good for you to practice in front of an audience, anyway.”

Scorpius felt his brain separate into fragments. He blinked once, hard, trying to force them back together, but found that they preferred to be separated. “Excuse me?”

“Put your skates back on.” He opened his mouth. “Or I’ll make you run eight miles today.” He closed his mouth. Clarice had never made an empty threat, and he did not expect her to start. 

He crammed his feet into his skates, the gears in his mind churning at impossibly high rates. The team was continuing to practice, seemingly unaware of the show Scorpius was required to put on for them.

Theodore and Annabelle were enough as friends. They laughed at his jokes sometimes and hung out with him during mealtimes. That’s what friends were, right? It would be nice to have them over, but his father would have a heart attack and that wouldn’t be fun for anyone involved. He didn't need Al in his life. His life is fine. He’s fine.

Scorpius skated on his half of the rink, the hockey team staying on theirs. He skated a few careful laps, his crossovers precise, before coming to a sharp stop. A few heads snapped up at the sound of his skates slicing through the ice. 

Well, then. Maybe Clarice was right. It would only make sense to use them as a practice audience, wouldn’t it? Scorpius got terribly anxious before competitions. He would tremble like a leaf off of the rink. His words came out in fits and starts, the only time he struggled to articulate. Stepping on the ice, though, every worry evaporated. As long as he didn’t dwell on the fact that there was an audience, he performed beautifully. It made sense to work on his nerves with a bunch of hockey boys. What did they know about technique and form? 

He assumed his starting position: head down, arms crossed behind his back, right skate popped up, left skate facing forward. It was fairly simple and he guessed Clarice wanted to jazz it up a little more down the line, but the program was still in progress and this was the best he could do. He signaled to Clarice to start the music. It began to flow from the speakers, a bit more quietly than normal, but still there. 

Pushing off powerfully, Scorpius gained speed before pushing off from the edge of his skate onto his toe pick to perform a triple toe loop. He danced along to the music, skating backwards, doing some showy motions before bending his knee and launching himself into a triple salchow. This landing was a bit more wobbly than he would have liked, but he recovered without even breaking a sweat. After spinning in endless circles, he pushed backwards and extended his right left backwards and propelled himself into the air with his toe pick. The landing felt almost effortless. Scorpius nearly screamed with joy. That was the first time he had landed that jump in this program without hesitation. 

Biting back a smile, he did some more of his showy moves before picking up speed for the double axel. He turned to face forward and saw all of the boys staring at him. They had amassed a small crowd on the ice. Out of the corner of his eye, Scorpius saw Al give him a little wave and a smile.

Scorpius felt himself falter. He hesitated on the jump, which meant he had to turn around to garner even more speed. They wouldn’t notice if his revolutions were off. Just a simple double axel and then stop the program. _Do it, Scorpius._ He skated back around, turned forward, and jumped, turning twice in the air, and then landing on his other foot. Except he had too much momentum and continued to spin with only one foot grounding him. Normally, that was easy. A trick, even. But he wasn’t expecting it. His ankle revolted and he fell face first onto the ice.

He thought to cover his face with his hands, at least. Scorpius used his palms to force himself to his feet once more and saw that all of the hockey boys were gathered around their coach. Maybe they didn’t see that horrendous jump.

Tentatively, he skated forward. His right ankle flared with pain. “Well, frick,” he mumbled aloud. He couldn’t bring himself to care about the curse. As gently as he could, he wobble-skated towards the rink exit. Tears gathered in the corners of his eyes. This was all Clarice’s fault.

He took off his skates the moment he could to inspect the damage. His ankle looked a little swollen. Scorpius pressed two fingers to the joint and winced. _Alright, not super fantastic._ He put on his normal socks and his emergency extra pair of socks. Hopefully, that would give it enough basic support so he could buy a real brace later. 

There was the tell-tale sound of someone stopping sharply on the ice. Scorpius looked up and into the eyes of Al. The boy’s helmet was balanced on his hip, his hair messy. When Scorpius locked eyes with him, Al blinked before blurting, “That looked wicked. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” Resentment surged in his chest. This wasn’t just Clarice’s fault; this was Al’s. If Al hadn’t talked to him on the first day, then Clarice wouldn’t have started scheming and he wouldn’t be stuck with this stupid ankle injury. The viciousness that had seeded itself in his chest began to take root. “No thanks to you.”

Al’s forehead wrinkled. “What are you on about?” 

Scorpius couldn’t look him in the eyes anymore. It was too much. His chest heaved. His breaths came in fast and shallow. “You distracted me.” _What if I can’t skate again because of this? What if the ligament is completely torn and I need surgery? What if I need crutches for the rest of my life?_ His thoughts were spiralling. With a shaky hand, he pushed his hair down. 

“Distracting you?” Al seemed the type to not back down from a fight. His lip was curling. _Good. I’ll drive him away. He won’t have to see what happens next._ “I was trying to be encouraging.” 

“In your mind, maybe.” The words were barely audible. There was a vine wrapping around his throat, choking him, pushing his eyeballs from his skull, paralyzing him. He couldn't breathe. The plant wanted carbon dioxide, it wanted to take control of his body and take root in soil, it wanted to kill him.

His head dropped between his knees, each breath more shallow and rapid than the last. The vines were digging into his skin. They were pushing apart the vertebrae in his backbone. They were coiling around his heart. Scorpius clasped his hands behind his head. 

“Scorpius. Scorpius, pay attention to me. Breathe with me.”

Scorpius shook his head. Words were beyond impossible. He was too busy concentrating on getting the world back in focus. Breathing was the last of his worries. He crumpled further in on himself. He wished his chest would collapse.

“I don’t think touching would help. Am I right? You can shake your head yes or no to answer.” Scorpius dared to look up from his knees. His gaze didn’t need to go far; Al was eye level with him. He looked very serious. Scorpius wanted to flush; he was making a scene. Instead, he nodded. Touching would probably make him jump and cause him to break his ankle for good. 

“Okay, want to breathe with me? It’s easy. We breathe in for three seconds, hold it for four seconds, and then exhale for five. Try it with me.” Al began breathing at a deliberate pace, counting down the time with his fingers. 

Scorpius wanted to sink through the floorboards and join the soil. He wanted the Zamboni to grind him into the ice. Really, he wanted to be anywhere but here. The little kids were coming in for their skating lessons. They stared at him with wide eyes, their parents moving them away, giving Scorpius a wide berth. 

Al waved a hand in front of his face. “Focus on me. Just do it three times. I promise I’ll leave you alone if you do it.”

 _That feels harmless enough._ Scorpius paused and then nodded. It was hard to get his breathing under control, to bat away the feeling that the vines had him pinned, but eventually the weight off his chest lifted. He was no longer being suffocated. The seeds were still there, behind his eyes, in his ears, in his stomach. But they were no longer choking him.

“Sorry,” Scorpius croaked out. “That was unusual.”

Al stared at him, his mouth open just a smidge. Was it surprise curving his lips into the slightest ‘o’ shape? Was it pity? Had to be one of the two, Scorpius reckoned. He seemed to shake himself before smiling shyly. “No, I’m sorry for getting touchy with you. I was confused why you were getting so pissed. Now I get it. I mean, your ankle, dude. Ouch. That’s pretty important.”

“Yeah.” There was green sprouting. Scorpius pressed his palms into the bench to ground himself. He wasn’t keen on going through that again. Not with all the people watching. “It’s okay. Hopefully it’ll heal fast.”

“I hope so, too. I want to see more of those jumps.” Scorpius dared another glance at Al. The light reflecting from the ice made his green eyes look brilliant. 

Scorpius snorted. He couldn’t imagine Al waiting patiently as he spun through the air. That didn’t line up with his gruff hockey persona. “Sure you do.” 

“Really! I do!” Then again, gruff hockey boy didn’t exactly fit Al. Sure, he had wide shoulders and said the word ‘dude,’ but he also had a very sweet and genuine smile. And a dimple. Everything about him made Scorpius feel a little less on edge, which was miraculous, considering the circumstances.

“I’m surprised that you’re so interested.” Where is this chattiness coming from? He looked at the back of his hands. There were cuts from when he fell on the ice. He must have scraped his knuckles; there was dried blood on the back of his fingers, too.

“Please, everyone with a brain is interested in figure skating. There’s a reason it’s the most popular sport to watch during the Winter Olympics.” Al used his hands when he spoke. Scorpius found himself feeling fond of this strange boy. He was nice and didn’t think Scorpius was a total idiot for freaking out on him. Or maybe he did. Al was probably just pitying him and Scorpius was reading too much into it. 

“Is that true?” _Of course it’s not true. Why would he care about figure skating? He’s a jock._

Al bit at his smile. “Not sure, but it’s true in my family. Sometimes I think I signed up for the wrong sport.”

“I’ll take over from here.” Clarice clapped a hand on Scorpius’ shoulder. He flinched instinctively. The vines were mostly gone, but he still felt jittery. Like he had downed fourteen cups of coffee in one sitting. He had tried that once and it had gone as he expected. His father ended up making him run until he was too tired to move his legs. Scorpius had a feeling it was between that or taping his mouth shut, seeing as he couldn’t stop talking.

“You have an episode?” This sort of thing had happened before, the raw panic seizing him and making him ball up and unresponsive. Clarice wasn't a big fan of accommodating it. Always talking about how he needed to 'work on' his nerves. It's hard to work on a disorder, he wanted to bite back, but he couldn't. As he said before: Clarice didn't take suggestions. His father was much better at handling them, but his father wasn't often around anymore when they happened. Scorpius was grateful that Al was around. He seemed like he knew what he was doing. He nodded in response to Clarice and then looked in Al’s direction. The other boy had stood up but was hesitating to go back into the rink. When their eyes met, Al mouthed, ‘Are you okay?’ Scorpius nodded again. The other boy gave him a thumbs up before skating away. Scorpius turned to face Clarice once more.

“Yeah, but Al helped. I’m all right. I think I sprained my ankle.”

She raised her eyebrows. “Go get that checked out, then. We have a brace in the training closet. Let me fetch that for you real quick.” As she walked away, she said, “At least you timed it well. You have a chance to recover and you won’t miss out on your next competition.”

Competition was the last thing on his mind, but the first thing on Clarice’s. Typical. He put his head in his hands and resolved to wait there until the world stopped spinning. _The world never stops spinning, Scorp,_ the little voice in his head reminded him. _We’re on a whirling ball headed straight towards the apocalypse._

_Thanks, little voice._


	3. Chapter 3

Dr. Rosenblatt looked up from the screen and turned back towards Scorpius. “Okay, I double checked the results with a colleague, and we’re both certain that it’s a sprain. A grade two sprain.”

“That’s better than a fracture,” his dad offered. Scorpius wanted to laugh. His father had nearly started to bite his perfectly manicured nails waiting for the doctor to stop tapping on her computer. The hospital was driving his father insane. Scorpius tried not to dwell on the reason why and focused instead on his ankle.

“You should recover within three weeks, since you’re young. If you’re not careful, though, it can take six weeks, maybe even longer. Have you been icing it at home?”

“Yes.” Scorpius had been nearly neurotic about taking care of his foot. When he wasn’t in the ice bath, he kept it on a tall stack of pillows. 

“That’s good.” She tapped her pen against the desk, looking at Scorpius. He shifted his weight on the hospital table, staring at his messed up foot. It was too hard to make direct eye contact with her. “I’ve printed out a list of exercises for you to do at home to test your range of motion. It’ll help strengthen your ankle as you recover. I’d recommend buying a brace, one that doesn’t restrict you too much.” The doctor passed the pages to his father, who clutched them as though they were a lifeline. “Do you have any questions?”

“When can I go back to skating?”

Dr. Rosenblatt rested her chin in her hand for a moment. Her stare practically bore holes in his body. “I’d say give it a month. We can check back in right before your first practice to make sure you’re not rushing yourself.”

Scorpius felt the wind escape him. A whole month? That sounded like torture. Being holed up in his house all day over winter break? Nothing to distract him at all? His father was good company, but he liked having things to do. There were only so many books he could read in two weeks. 

“Can we schedule the appointment up front?” His father was already gathering his coat. Scorpius slouched forward, hardly able to lift himself from the table. 

It was going to be a long two weeks.

*

His locker would be dusty the next time he returned. Scorpius tried not to worry about that for too long as he grabbed his training t-shirt and leggings and folded them neatly on the adjacent bench. He almost never used it, but he liked to keep it clean. The rest of the locker room smelled absolutely atrocious, but that didn’t stop him from valuing a little lemon scent.

Clarice would certainly ban him from the rink sooner or later. She knew he wouldn’t be able to stay away on his own, and he’d covet and cry and beg to skate, and he would get injured again and wouldn’t be in the competition circuit for a long, long time. And that would be miserable for everyone involved. Without competitions, he had no reason to live, breathe, and eat ice skating. No, the simplest thing to do would be to outlaw him from coming back until he was healed.

But she hadn’t become a raging tyrant yet, so he lingered. Maybe he could watch a practice or something. A last hurrah. 

“My goodness, you’re being dramatic,” Scorpius said to himself. He spritzed his locker with a little bit of cleaning spray and wiped down the inside with a paper towel. “It’s four weeks. You’re acting like you’re being separated from a lover or something.”

“I didn’t know people still used the word lover in the 21st century,” a familiar voice responded. Scorpius screamed and dropped the cleaning spray. It clanged on the concrete floor, making an embarrassing, metallic sound. Scorpius wanted to join it down there, but he couldn’t, so he turned to face Al.

Al was leaning against the wall that led to the entrance of the men’s locker room. He looked very suave. And was wearing black jeans. Scorpius had only ever seen him in his hockey gear. “I forgot something in my locker and overheard you chattering away. I’m impressed with your dedication to cleanliness; it smells like someone died in here.”

“No, it smells more like sweat. Sweaty man smell.” Al covered his mouth with a hand. “Was that funny?”

“A little, because it’s true. It smells like balls, if we’re being serious.” 

Scorpius wrinkled his nose, but he couldn’t keep his lips from quirking up ever so slightly. “No need to be profane.”

Al started to chuckle. “Sorry, sorry.” He didn’t sound sincere. Scorpius didn’t mind.

There was a long silence. Scorpius re-folded all of his clothes before putting them in his backpack. He stared at his skates with their laces neatly tucked. He decided he couldn’t bear to bring those home. He’d up trying them on and wrecking his ankle all over again. Or sending himself into a deep mourning period every time he glanced at them over the next month.

“How long are you out of commission for?” 

“Uh, a month or so. Hopefully less.” His father would have his head for the ‘uh,’ but he couldn’t help it. Around Al, it was harder to string sentences together. It was hard around new people in general.

“Oh, that’s rough, dude.” Al had a particular way of talking with which Scorpius was very familiar. It was how all of the athletic boys at his school spoke. And he wasn’t talking about the figure skating athletic types. The ones who used to push him around on the school playground. But Al wouldn’t push him around. At least, he seemed not the type to, especially after the whole sprained ankle incident. “I’ve had a concussion before, so I know what it's like.”

“That sounds fairly serious.”

Al waved a hand down, smiling. Something near his neck bounced. What caught his attention was Al’s single earring. It was a small, black cross. He’d never seen a guy wearing earrings before. It looked nice on the other boy. It suited him. “Nah, it’s not so bad. Most guys on my team have had more. I just couldn’t look at my phone for a week or so. Nearly killed me.”

“You use your phone that much?” Scorpius only ever used his phone for emergencies or to occasionally text Theodore and Annabelle. It was a slide phone; he didn’t need any of the fancy gadgets. He didn’t have time in the day for dillydallying, nevermind games on his phone or any of that garbage. 

“Ha, I mean...” Al sat down on the bench across from Scorpius. He ran his hands through his curly hair before resting them on his thighs. Scorpius wondered how his fingers didn’t manage to get stuck in his thick locks. It must take him hours to brush out his hair every morning. “Married to it might be a better descriptor.”

Scorpius grimaced. “That sounds highly illegal.”

“And unromantic, don’t you think?” Al flashed a grin Scorpius’ way. His teeth were perfectly white. It looked almost unnatural.

“Your teeth are too white,” Scorpius blurted. Al stared at him for a long moment before responding.

“Is this better?” he asked before laughing. “Sorry. No one’s ever told me that before. I used to use a lot of whitening strips, but they’re so bad for my teeth so I have to stop. But hey, at least I have a nice smile now.”

Scorpius found himself nodding in agreement with the last statement. It was true. Al did have a very nice smile. His teeth were spaced symmetrically without any gaps or holes. There was no overbite. His jaw looked normally set. He had one dimple on his left cheek. There was a smattering of freckles in the surrounding area, especially on his nose. And, of course, his teeth were perfectly white. _Jeez, Scorpius. Way to sound like a freak._ “Yeah, you do have a nice smile.”

“Thank you.” Al looked down at his hands. His face was turning red. 

“I better get going before it gets too late and my father starts to worry,” Scorpius mumbled, standing up abruptly. He winced as he did so, his ankle rejecting the sudden movement. Had he said something that made Al uncomfortable? He hoped not. It was quite nice talking to this other boy, even though their conversation hadn’t been as substantial as the ones he was used to engaging in during school lunch periods. He didn’t mind, though. Talking to Al felt like the right thing to do, for whatever reason.

“Do you need me to walk you anywhere? I’d be happy to carry your things, if you need.” Al had sprung to his feet and was holding out a hand. Scorpius looked down at the outstretched hand. Did he want to shake hands right now? That didn’t seem right, but he wanted to be careful, so he grabbed Al’s hand and shook it. Al looked at his hand like it had burst into flames. 

“Er. Is that a yes?” Scorpius squinted at Al. How on Earth would Al have gotten to that conclusion from a handshake? Or was that another social thing that Scorpius didn’t know? The latter option seemed more likely. 

“I’m okay, my father’s just picking me up right outside.” Al nodded and dropped Scorpius’ hand. His dimple disappeared. “But I’ll be sure to ask you for help when I need it. You seem very strong.”

“Haha, thank you.” The dimple returned. Scorpius discovered that he missed the dimple when it wasn’t around. Al’s smile made him feel a bit like he was sitting in the kitchen in the early morning doing the crossword with his mum. He hadn’t felt precisely like that in a very long time. “See you around?”

That was a question, Scorpius knew. When he studied French, he learned about the intonations that indicate that a question is being asked. If you use the right tone, you can turn a sentence into a question without any further indicator. It was formulaic, which was how Scorpius remembered it. Al was doing that with his voice. He spoke up on the word ‘around,’ which meant he was asking Scorpius ‘Am I going to see you again?’ Scorpius thought for a moment. “I hope so.”

“I hope so,” Al echoed. “Yeah, I hope so too.” He smiled once more before ducking out of the locker room entirely.

When Scorpius got home, he realized Al had forgotten to grab whatever was in his locker and chided his newfound friend for being so forgetful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i apologize for such a short chapter! it was that or wait longer for like 5k lol and i want to keep the story moving. see you in about 5 days!


	4. Chapter 4

The final day before winter break, Scorpius limped into school to collect his belongings. His father was waiting outside with the car so that he wouldn’t have to miserably grimace through public transportation. People would be kind enough to give him a seat, he hoped, but with his heavy textbooks and other assorted belongings he’d rather not risk it. 

“Scorpius! What’s with the foot?” Theodore strolled up to his locker, cramming what looked to be a half-eaten burrito into his mouth. Scorpius smiled. Typical Theodore, always running short on time. 

“I sprained it while skating. I’ll be fine after the break.” Scorpius always forgot how tall Theodore could be while standing. He was so used to sitting next to him at the lunch table that he forgot that he had to tilt his chin up to look the other boy in the eyes. 

“Gang’s all here!” Annabelle whooped from halfway across the hallway. She sprinted over before sliding to a stop, her long hair whipping about. “Too bad Scorpius is broken.”

“I'm not broken, just my ankle. And it isn't even broken, only sprained.”

Annabelle shrugged before striding up to Theodore. "Potato, po-tat-oh." If Scorpius felt a little short next to him, Annabelle looked practically ant-sized in comparison. “Theo, can I grab a bite of that?”

Theodore looked at her as he lowered the tinfoil from his mouth. “You sure you want some?”

“On second thought, no. Don't want your slobber anywhere near me.” She tucked a lighter piece of hair behind her ear. Scorpius remembered when he learned that her hair wasn’t naturally different shades of brown. He had sat there in shock at the table as she and Theodore chuckled for almost half an hour. “Scorpius, I haven't seen you in ages. Anything interesting happen?”

Scorpius sucked in his cheeks for a moment, weighing whether or not he should call Albus a friend. They were friends, right? Friends talked to each other. That sounded right. “I think I made friends with a hockey boy that practices at my rink.”

“A hockey boy? Scorpius, branching out? Meeting new people?” Annabelle’s tongue poked out from her teeth as she nudged Scorpius in the ribs. He made a face at her. 

“Meeting new people is in my skill set, I’ll have you know.”

“That and having beef with the school crossword.” Theodore stifled back a snort with his free hand. Scorpius glared at the two of him and crossed his arms.

“Hey! I’ll have you know that it’s perfectly reasonable to… be angry with a puzzle.” Annabelle had taught him that ‘having beef with something’ meant that you were upset with whatever it was. It had caught him by surprise when she had announced one day that she had beef with her math teacher and he asked her about it. She had doubled over laughing and then kindly explained that she had not purchased a literal cow to share with him. He understood what it meant now, but he wasn't very found of using the expression. It made no sense. Why was beef a bad thing to have?

“What’s his name?” Theodore cut in, keen to prevent any unnecessary bickering. 

“Al Potter.”

“Hello?” Annabelle whipped around and shook Scorpius by the shoulders. He gasped slightly, caught extremely by surprise. “The Al Potter, as in the one from West Lion, the one who’s super good at hockey, the super attractive one, the one who will definitely play in the NHL one day? That Al Potter?”

Scorpius felt rather jostled. “What? Uh, I think so?" He tried not to think about how Annabelle called him 'the super attractive one.' It made his stomach gurgle in an uncomfortable way.

“Promise me if you go to a game, you’ll take me?” Annabelle batted her eyelashes at him. She wore false eyelashes (that was another big surprise for him, after the whole ‘Annabelle dyes her hair’ incident) and it really exaggerated her whole pretty-please act. 

Scorpius felt a twinge of annoyance. It was very confusing. Why was he annoyed? Annabelle was acting like her typical, boy-crazed self. He shook off the feeling before it could grow. “Yeah, of course. Theodore, you should come too.”

“You betcha. I’ll block you in,” Theodore said with a wink. 

“I’ll start planning my look.” Annabelle was rooting through a makeup bag that she apparently kept in her school bag. Scorpius wondered if other girls did this, too. Girls were such a mystery. “Theodore, I’d give you a makeover too, but I don’t think I have foundation that matches your skin tone."

Theodore chuckled. “You know I don’t need makeup to get someone to notice me. And hockey boys aren’t really my type.”

“Are you saying I need it?” Annabelle, despite being so much shorter than Theodore, made him back up a few steps with her raw fury. Scorpius also took a step back. She told him before that she was usually exaggerating her emotions, but it was nearly impossible for him to figure out when she was joking and when she wasn’t. He decided to play it safe. 

“No, I’m just saying…” He glanced down at his watch and swore. “That I have to get to an exam. Bye Annabelle, please don’t kill me! Bye Scorp, feel better! Text me!” He turned and ran, giving the two a wave. 

“I better get going too. I need to hunt down his cheeky ass. See ya!” Annabelle mouthed ‘Call me!’ before sprinting in the same direction that Theodore had just gone.

Scorpius smiled to himself. He would miss those two over the next two weeks, even if Annabelle scared him sometimes. He closed his locker door and began the arduous processing of moving his belongings to the car. 

*

Being at home made Scorpius feel like he was going to start crawling up the walls at any minute. He simply had too much energy. Without either school or skating as a way for him to leave the house, he felt like he was shivering with untapped potential. 

There were some things to do, of course. He texted Theodore and Annabelle. He re-read all of his favorite books from cover to cover. He asked his father to pick up some new books from the local library and sped through all five in three days. He did all the logic puzzles and crosswords he could get his hands on. He watched his father cook and tried not to touch anything, even though he wanted to look at the ingredients of everything. He was a total disaster in the kitchen.

The rink called out to him, though. He heard it pining for him in the morning, when he woke up at an ungodly hour and stared at the ceiling until normal people started to get out of bed. It screamed his name when he looked at his running sneakers or his training gear. It yelled out to him when he caught a glimpse of the sports section of the newspaper and saw an article about the hockey team.

Most of all, though, he mourned not being able to see Albus. Al. Al Potter, star forward of King Academy. The latter half of the title felt awkward in Scorpius’ mouth, but now that Annabelle had attached it to his newfound friend’s name it was hard to ignore it. The other piece of information that she had attached to his name - "super attractive" was too confusing to even start to understand, so it was easier to set that aside for now. Soon, though, he'd get around to understanding that. 

It was nice, getting to know Albus - Al - a little better. He was interesting to talk to. And of course he had seen Scorpius freak out and hadn’t been scared away. That wasn’t something that had happened before. Scorpius was intrigued, that’s all. Intrigued and lonely and bored. The Manor was tiring when he was cooped up in it.

He cursed himself for not being brave enough to ask for the other boy’s number. Or e-mail. Or if he owned a carrier pigeon. Scorpius mulled over the bird option. He thought that owls might be better suited to the job of carrying letters. Owls were nocturnal, but they seemed to be far more intelligent than pigeons. But regardless, humans had selected to breed pigeons instead. And they did the job just fine in the olden days.

It didn’t matter if owls were better at letter carrying, though, because he had no way of contacting Al. Maybe if they had some method of conversing, being stuck in the house would be less miserable.

As time passed, his ankle stopped looking so melodramatic. The bruising faded from deep purple to a pukish-greenish color to a faint yellow. His joint was no longer analogous to a bowling ball. He was able to walk on it without feeling any pain at all through the layers of bandages and braces. 

Maybe it was time to return.

*

“It’s time to return!” Scorpius called out joyously to the nearly empty rink. Clarice was sitting on the bleachers and fiddling with her clipboard when he arrived. Her head snapped up the second he yelled.

“No!” she yelled. “It hasn’t been three weeks yet! Out!”

“Yes! I’m free!” 

“No!” 

Scorpius crossed his arms and pouted. He hadn’t grabbed any of his skating gear, knowing that she would remember the dates and knowing that he had to heed the doctor’s advice. Still, there had been a tiny, itty bitty part of him that hoped that Clarice would let him skate. He knew it was impossible, but dreams existed.

“Can I at least stay?” Scorpius tried to mold his face to look very sad. It wasn’t too hard, since he would feel sad if Clarice said no. 

Clarice narrowed her eyebrows. She deliberated a long moment before saying, “As long as you’re not a nuisance.”

“Yes!” Scorpius clapped his hands together and skipped onto the bleachers. “What’s on the schedule today?” He knew Al’s team was practicing again, but he couldn’t remember what time.

“Your new friend’s team gets here in fifteen minutes to practice.” Clarice had already returned to her mysterious clipboard activities. 

Thirteen minutes later, Al’s team hobbled onto the ice. They skated laps, passed back and forth, took shots on goal. It looked familiar to what Scorpius had seen the first time he met Al. Their coach blew a whistle and yelled out some words he couldn’t quite make out. The players partnered off and performed what seemed to be a pass and shoot drill. Their goalie hardly let any in.

It was hard to figure out where Al was, with the heavy gear and the helmets making everyone look pretty much the same. Once they finished and pulled off their helmets, though, it was hard mistaking which one was him.

“Hi!” Scorpius called, moving from his seat on the bleachers to get within a proper conversation distance. 

“Hey! What are you doing here?” Al’s smile creeped into his voice. 

“I am bored in my house and I thought I would finally come see a practice of yours, since I never have time during the regular school year. I didn’t understand much, you’ll have to explain some of it to me. Though I did read a book on hockey strategy when I was really hitting a low point. I think I know all the positions now and what everyone is supposed to do. The drills don’t translate well from text to visual, though.” Scorpius took a deep breath so Al could speak.

The other boy paused. A slow smile spread across his face. He shook his head and said, “You really are something else, huh?” Scorpius suddenly felt like someone had turned up the temperature in the rink too high and the ice was going to start melting. He touched his fingers to his cheek to make sure no one had tampered with the thermostat. Nope, they were still freezing.

“Something else? Other than what?”

“I mean… you’re interesting. You’re not like everyone else. But in a good way.” 

“Oh.” His stomach was twisting about in a way that felt both uncomfortable and yet bearable. It was almost like the nerves he felt before a panic attack, but instead, he found himself wanting to feel the sensation more rather than less. It was bizarre. “Thank you. No one’s ever told me that before.”

“Well, they should’ve. Speaking of things that should be done, I should get going. My team is having a meeting soon. But I’ll see you when you start skating again, yeah?” Al’s smile crinkled his eyes. Scorpius felt his own lips quirk up. It was hard not to smile when Al looked at him like that.

“Yeah, absolutely.” Al gave a quick wave before walking back towards the locker rooms. Scorpius put his hands under his jaw and allowed himself to become lost in thought. _What is happening to me?_


	5. Chapter 5

“Hey, Scorpion.” Scorpius looked up from untying his skates and smiled when he saw Al grinning down at him. It was his first day back at the rink. Clarice had him doing very simple routines and limited jumps to make sure he could build his strength back up. Being back here was electrifying. He almost cried with happiness when he touched the ice. And, to make the whole experience better, he was already seeing Al again. 

“That’s not my name.” It didn’t bother him, though. People called him Scorp all the time. He had nicknames when he was younger, but only from his father. The nicknames other kids used were mean ones. Bullies were the ones who taunted him with Four Eyes, Scorpoo, Midget, Rat, Freak. Those weren’t nice nicknames. Al’s nickname felt… nice. Or at least, nicer. Scorpius had a hard time with adjectives concerning Al. It felt like this other boy couldn’t be described by the words in a dictionary. And Scorpius didn’t know any other words. 

“It’s good to see you back.” Al sat down next to him and shoved his hands in his pockets. His front pockets. It made his shoulders slump in a funny way.

“I’m really excited to be back!” Scorpius flapped his hands about, unable to control the pure joy radiating from him. 

“I was wondering something.” The other boy fidgeted with something that Scorpius couldn’t quite see. His leg was wiggling so hard Scorpius worried he might break the bench or send the two of them flying. “Do you ever want to come to one of my games? I have one tomorrow at 4 in the afternoon. That is, if you’re interested.”

“Oh.” He paused to consider. He didn’t have anything going on tomorrow afternoon. Would he rather spend his free time at the Manor or watching Al? He knew the answer pretty quickly. “Yes, I would like to very much.”

Al stared at Scorpius. Scorpius stared back.

“Why are you staring at me?”

Al bit his lip and shook his head slowly. “Usually you take a little longer to think about your answers to questions.”

“You’re right.” Scorpius could spend hours trapped in his own head, just thinking about nothing and everything at the same time. “I don’t know. The answer felt obvious this time, I guess.”

“You guess? Scorpius? Not knowing something?” There was the usual Al. Joking around and smiling so brightly he could get a part-time job as a solar flare. He definitely had the fiery nature to do it, judging by how warm Scorpius’ chest felt. 

There was a moment where they just sat there and smiled at each other. It was nice, having a friend that didn’t need to fill the airspace all the time. Sometimes, it felt like Annabelle would talk his ear off as Theodore constantly engaged. It could be overwhelming. Speaking of, that reminded him.

“Is it okay if two of my friends come? One of them loves hockey and when I mentioned your name, she insisted that she needed to come with me if I ever went. The other one will tag along regardless.”

“Sure! Give me the deets.”

“The deets?” More slang that Scorpius never understood. He made a mental note to buy a dictionary for teenage slang so that he could maintain a conversation with Al or Annabelle. Luckily, both were happy to explain, so maybe he could save the money.

“You know, the lowdown.” Scorpius shook his head and mouthed, ‘Sorry.’ Al chuckled. “Like, what do they look like? How do they act? That sort of thing. When you ask someone for the deets on someone else, that’s what that is.”

“Oh, okay. Um, I’ll start with Annabelle. She’s very excited about meeting you. She’s tiny, half-Korean, wears a lot of makeup. Easy to spot, especially because she’ll be next to me and I’m nearly twice her size. I guess a good word to describe her is… feisty? I don’t know. She’s very loud. The other person is Theodore. He’s tall-”

Al raised a hand to stop Scorpius in his tracks. “Hold up, tall? Taller than you?”

“Yes, even taller than me. I know that’s hard for you to believe due to your height-” 

“-I’m not small! I’m five foot ten! That’s average! You just think you’re better because you’re six feet tall.” Al looked down at his lap before adding, “Girls must love that.”

Scorpius blurted out the truth before he could think about how it would sound. “I don’t really care what girls think of me.”

“Hmph.” Al glanced away again. Was Al judging him? It’s not like any girls would be interested in him, even if he did care what they thought. “Sorry, I interrupted you. Go on.”

“I was just saying that Theodore is tall and will look like he’s distracted. He definitely is.”

“By what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Anything. Everything.”

“Probably by Annabelle.”

Scorpius stared at Al. There was a lot of staring happening today, but that was only because the other boy was being more confusing than usual. Do other boys really talk about girls this much? Theodore never did unless he was making fun of Annabelle. “Why would he be distracted by her?”

Al shrugged. “She sounds pretty. I don’t know, I was trying to make a joke.” The barest hint of jealousy coursed through Scorpius before he shook himself. Why would he be jealous of Annabelle? There was something seriously wrong with him. He was feeling all sorts of emotions at inappropriate times. 

Scorpius flushed and looked down, overwhelmed both by his reaction and his misstep in the conversation. He shook his hands out a few times to try to focus on something else and dislodge his rising embarrassment. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m bad with getting jokes. I’m not very funny."

“Don’t say that. It’s okay to not get every joke I make. Plus, I think you’re funny.”

There was an awkward pause as both of them looked away from the other. “Thanks,” Scorpius said quietly, fixing his gaze on Al’s cheek to count his freckles once more. He wanted Al to know that he liked talking to him, but looking at the other boy in the eyes felt like too much. “I, uh, also think you’re funny.”

“You do?” Why did Al sound so surprised? His humor was so immediate. It’s like he was always ready to fire a quip here and there. Even if Scorpius didn’t understand half of them, he could appreciate that most people loved it. It made talking to him so interesting. Scorpius took a step closer so that what he was about to say would properly sink in.

“Of course. Humor comes naturally to you.”

Softly, Al said, “Well, um, I have to go. But I’m looking forward to seeing you tomorrow. And meeting your friends.”

Scorpius smiled. “I’m looking forward to it, too.” The weird feeling in his stomach was back. It seemed to only be around whenever Al was there. The more it happened, the less Scorpius minded it.

*

It was very hard to understand hockey after only reading a book about it, Scorpius was starting to realize. It probably would have been best to have some visual aid beforehand, but his father monopolized the television for reality shows. Anyway, he wouldn’t know what channel to turn to for sports, anyway. He only knew that there was a channel for Olympic ice skating. And it wasn’t an even year, so no Olympic ice hockey for him.

Someone in yellow made a very ugly crunching sound when his helmet hit the glass. Scorpius flinched at the sound. Annabelle made a sympathetic noise.

“Can you explain to me what’s going on?” he asked in a small voice. 

“Theo, mark the day. January 3rd, 2022. The first time Scorpius didn’t know something and I did.” Theodore mimed taking notes before snorting. Scorpius let out a sigh. “Okay, okay, sorry. So there’s six guys on each team. A goalie each, three forwards, two defensemen. Your buddy Al is a forward. He’s trying to score goals and steal the puck from the other team. Defensemen, well, they defend.”

Scorpius wished he had a notebook to write everything down. “Okay. And the rules?”

“Not a lot. Can’t trip anyone, can’t deck someone from behind, can’t be too violent. Otherwise you get thrown in the penalty box for your crimes until they’ve decided you’ve been in there long enough.” She waggled her fingers for extra effect. “The referees are the judge and executioner.

“As for other rules… You see those red lines that mark both goals? If you slap the puck from center ice and it doesn’t touch anyone else and goes across that line, then you have to restart from where you hit it. That’s called icing. It doesn’t count, though, if you’re down a guy because of a penalty.”

There was so much to know, and Scorpius’ brain could only keep up with so much. He hoped Al hadn’t done anything cool and important in the opening minutes of the game. “Anything else?”

“If you’re trying to score, you can’t go past the other team’s blue line before the puck does. That’s offsides. That’s it, I think. If you have any questions, tap me.” She winked at him and clapped him on the shoulder. 

“I have so many questions,” Scorpius quietly informed the ceiling. The ceiling did not care. 

Annabelle did a surprisingly good job of explaining, because now he mostly understood why the referees would stop the game randomly and gesture. He kept an eye out for Al’s number - 11 - during the game. Sometimes, he had to squeeze his eyes shut during the middle of a play because of the ‘checking,’ as Annabelle called it. He had no idea how throwing someone who was tottering on blades towards plexiglass using all of your two hundred pounds was legal, but moving the puck over a line at the wrong time wasn’t. Ignoring the legality, it was upsetting to look at, so he tried not to.

He cheered very loudly when Al scored a goal ten minutes into the first period. Whoever was in charge of the scoreboard blared a horn before updating the numbers. WEST LION: 1. GUEST: 0. 

“How long is the game?” Scorpius thought to ask when all the players disappeared off the ice and the Zamboni came on. “Are they still playing? That felt very short.”

“Three fifteen minute periods,” Theodore said, standing up from the bleachers and stretching his arms. “Want anything from the snack cart? I’m craving shitty overpriced fried food right about now.”

“No, thanks.”

Annabelle bounced after Theodore, chattering about how she was certain she could win a hot dog eating contest against all of the hockey players in the game tonight. Theodore, in response, ruffled her hair and smirked down at her. Scorpius tilted his head. Was that what having a crush on someone looked like? It seemed like they were just good friends. Then again, how would he know? He knew very well that observation wasn’t his strong suit. It was just hard. It felt like everyone else had some secret code and knew what to look for.

He pulled out his phone and texted Al. ‘Good luck! You’re doing very well.’ After a pause, he decided to add a little smiley face made out of a colon and a single parenthesis. Annabelle had taught him that trick and he thought it would make Al grin. He pictured the other boy’s freckly, dimpled smile and felt like he was about to float right out of his chair. Bizarre.

Al seemed to have been holding back in the first period. In the first half of the second period, he scored another goal and had an assist on another (“That means he passed it to the guy who scored, right?” “You’re learning quickly!”), bringing West Lion up 3-0. In the third period, he scored yet again and then was replaced by a fellow teammate. He removed his helmet and whooped loudly for his team, his hair bouncing all over the place. 

“That doesn’t seem like a very smart move on the coach’s part,” Scorpius said, frowning. 

“Coach probably wants to give other people the chance to play. You know, the ones who aren’t as good. Al’s been on practically the whole time, he needs a breather.” Theodore was looking at Scorpius with an expression that confused him. It was like he was a lab specimen being analyzed.

Annabelle tugged on his sleeve to bring his attention back to the game. It was less interesting when Al wasn’t playing. “Check it out, empty net.” She was right; the opposing team’s goalie had deserted. Scorpius felt his eyes bug out slightly. This had to be the weirdest sport that ever existed. “Coach replaced him with an offensive player as a desperate ploy to get a goal. But… nope, yikes,” she said, sucking her bottom lip in. “The Lions are absolutely demolishing them. Ouch.”

Final score was 6-0. The other team never stood a chance. The players all lined up and bumped gloves before circling around their coach. His trio hopped down the bleachers and loitered in the general rink area with all the other match attendees. 

“Scorpion!” Al’s messy brown curls stuck out from a distance. He deftly weaved his way into the crowd before barreling into Scorpius. He felt his ears get very, very hot when Al’s side made contact with his. Al bit his lip as he grinned. “What’d ya think?”

“Very hard to follow,” Scorpius admitted, feeling a blush creep up the back of his neck. _Why am I so nervous? It’s just Al._ “Luckily I had Annabelle explain it to me.”

Annabelle offered a hand. “That’s me.”

Politely, Al shook her hand before turning towards Theodore. “And you must be Theodore.”

“Heard a lot about you, Al Potter. Annabelle was gushing about you.”

“I was not!” she squeaked. 

“S’alright to admit the truth.” Annabelle scowled and crossed her arms. Theodore simply patted her arm. Al looked between the two of them before catching Scorpius’ eye and shrugging. 

“Could you see me from the ice?” Scorpius asked in a shy voice as the other two continued what he hoped was good-natured bickering. Why did it feel like his bodily systems were operating without input from his brain? Of course, there were some central patterns of nerves that allowed him to do basic motion without brain signaling, but he was fairly certain that modulation of speech required some upper-level functioning. 

“Spotted your platinum hair early on. Hard to miss,” Al said. “You made me nervous.”

“I made you nervous? Why?” Al looked down at his feet before shrugging. 

“Wanted to play well while you were watching. Sure you’ve heard a lot about me from Annabelle. She seems like a proper fan. Didn’t want to, I don’t know, disappoint you.” The other boy covered his face with his hands, peeking at Scorpius between his fingers. “I sound very ridiculous.”

“No, you don’t. I think you played very well.” Scorpius paused. “Then again, I only learned the rules about an hour ago, so perhaps my words aren’t a fantastic vote of confidence.” 

Al laughed so hard that he had to put his hands on his knees. When he straightened up, Scorpius felt his stomach swoop as though he were in a boat stuck in choppy waters. “Thanks for coming.” Gently, slowly, he touched Scorpius’ shoulder. He removed his hand a moment later.

Scorpius found himself wishing that Al was still touching him. He never wished that about anyone before. Perhaps his mother and father, but family was an exception to most social rules. He took a measured breath through his nostrils to give himself time to respond.“Um. Thank you for telling me to come? I liked the part where you put the puck in the net. Very good job.” Breathing did not help his speaking ability very much..

“Al!” Someone called sharply from the crowd. A woman with very long, very red hair and an uncountable number of freckles was gesturing furiously in their direction. Al sighed and started to turn.

“Sorry, family’s calling.” He pulled a funny face. “See you around.” With that, he disappeared back into the crowd, but not before looking over his shoulder once more. Scorpius was still watching him go. When they made eye contact, he felt the ground shift beneath his feet. 

He knew that Annabelle was speaking, but all Scorpius could hear for a moment was the blood pounding in his ears. He had never felt so confused yet pleased in his entire life. His whole body was buzzing with delight.

The three friends were silent during the walk to the parking lot. It was dark outside now, nearly dinnertime. Scorpius’ father had sent a text to say that he would be there in five minutes. Theodore and Annabelle were leaning against her bright red Jeep, looking at each other and mouthing things Scorpius couldn’t catch. To be fair to them, he spent most of the time staring at his own shoes and thinking about how happy Al looked after winning.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, when he spotted his father’s car.

“See you tomorrow!” they chimed. 

“Don’t stay up too late thinking about Al,” Annabelle called before yelping in pain. “Theodore! That hurt!”

Scorpius didn’t have the brainpower to even process her comment. He talked about the game with his father during the drive home as he stared out the window, watching the full moon follow them from a distance. If he closed his eyes, Al’s face would be there, his smile somehow just as bright.


	6. Chapter 6

Scorpius' chest was heaving. He stared at the ceiling of the rink, a dazzling smile on his face, holding that position desperately: arms outstretched pointed towards the heavens or where people theorized the heavens to be, depending on what perspective you looked at. Clarice clapped twice and Scorpius took a quick bow before exiting the rink.

“Nice run. Glad you didn’t falter. Few notes.” Her voice washed over him as he spoke. She said the same things to him every time. Smile more, don’t look at where the judges are sitting, don’t look too much at the audience, make the moves showier, flow more between dance moves and skating… It was a routine, and he loved routines, but at this point he could say her pointers in his sleep.

His first competition was two Saturdays from now. Sixteen days. He had his routine down and could execute it, but the next step was to perform it. There was a difference between going through the moves and putting on a show for the audience. Scorpius knew he excelled athletically (or at least, he was fairly sure he did, he didn’t want to be a braggart about it) but the social part of skating? As Al would say, “No dice.”

He hadn’t seen the other boy in a good stretch of time, about four days. Which wasn’t very much time at all, but it felt like a lifetime. 

“Go stretch. I want you to work on extending your left leg further. It’s still giving you trouble, but I think that’s more because you’re rusty rather than a lingering sprain.”

He laid on the floor next to the bleachers, leaning into a stretch that would release some of the tension in his hamstrings, when he heard a ferocious whistle from across the rink. Scorpius’ head snapped up.

Al was giving him two thumbs up. He ducked his head, trying to focus on stretching and not giving into the urge to chat with Al for hours like he wanted to.

He put his skates back on and went through each step of the routine again with Clarice to make sure he would receive almost no points off for faults. She grabbed the blade of his left skate at one point and hiked it above her head, forcing him to balance. “Told you it was rust.”

Part of him wanted to tell her that his body couldn’t rust because while he did have iron in his skin, there wasn’t enough exposed to oxygen to actually oxidize, but she fixed him with a look so fierce that all of his words fell down his throat into his stomach. He didn’t even need to swallow them back.

Clarice had him do one last run through before letting him go. The moment he struck his final pose, he heard the sound of one person clapping. He turned to face the noise. Al was there on the other side of the rink barrier. Scorpius skated over.

“You were amazing! How do you even do all of that?”

Scorpius looked at his hands, how pale they looked against the green barrier separating him from his friend. A shy smile crossed his face. “Practice.”

“Hell, I could practice for hours and never get close to you. Tell me, what is it really?” Al was looking at him. Scorpius could feel his eyes on him. 

He forced his chin up to look Al in the eyes. It made him feel dizzy. “Talent.”

“You’re teasing me! How rude!” Al raised his hand before aborting the motion and awkwardly letting it fall against the rink barrier, nearly missing Scorpius’ hand. Scorpius sucked in a breath without meaning to. 

“I have a competition in two Saturdays,” Scorpius said. Words were happening without him even thinking about saying them. At least they were words that he wanted to say to Al eventually, just not quite that second. Something about the other boy being so close to him was messing with his brain. “It’ll be here. Starting at one in the afternoon.”

Al wiggled his eyebrows. “Well?”

“Would.” Scorpius grit his teeth. His sudden pension for random speech evaporated almost as quickly as it came. His brain really hated him today, it seemed. “Would you come? You don’t have to if you don’t want to, it’ll be boring, probably a lot of other better skaters, but I think it would be cool, plus you said you liked the Olympics and this isn’t Olympic-level but it’s pretty neat anyway…” He trailed off. Al was smiling.

“Of course I want to come! Gotta watch you win a gold medal, don’t I?” He winked. 

A current shivered down Scorpius’ spine. He looked back down at his hands. Hands were safe. Hands didn’t make him feel complicated things that he didn’t understand. “I don’t think I’ll get gold. Maybe bronze. I’ll shoot for that.”

Al patted Scorpius’ hand. It seemed that hands actually did make him feel complicated things that he didn’t understand. “Shoot for platinum. You deserve at least that, in my professional opinion.”

“Platinum isn't a medal you can get." Scorpius said. "Gold is the highest." Then, he added, "You deserve far more than platinum." It was a true statement, so he said it.

The other boy turned a shade of red that had yet to be described in any dictionary. Scorpius was worried that he was choking for a moment. He cleared his throat several times and thumped himself in the chest. “Right. Yes.”

Conversation came to a halt, and pretty soon after that, Al’s teammates were walking out of the locker room. Scorpius frowned. He needed to understand what was going on. He didn’t like having a problem without having a name for it.

*

The library was a second home to him. When he felt like escaping his house for a moment, if he needed a book for research or just to read, it was always there for him. A librarian nodded her ancient head at him when he walked through the door. It was quiet for a Sunday. There was a dad flipping through books in the picture book section as his toddler fumbled with blocks. There were two older men at computers, tapping away slowly. A teenager was thumbing through the mystery section with a bored expression.

He sat down at a computer and tucked his knees under the table. Scorpius felt very strange about doing this sort of research. Shame was washing over him and he didn’t understand why. Regardless, he plucked up some scraps of courage and typed in, “electric feeling while touching someone else.”

A few articles popped up about static shock. He wrinkled his nose. Touching Al didn’t feel like static shock. The third article, though, was titled “Sexual Chemistry: Why Our Bodies Understand Love Before Our Brains Do.” Out of curiosity, he clicked on it.

It described feeling a magnetic pull towards someone else. Or feeling heat when someone else touched you. Both of things that he felt in Al’s presence. There was a picture of a shirtless man very close to a woman against a wall. He scrolled past that, having a feeling that fellow library patrons would be rather confused if they saw that on his screen. 

“Sexual attraction feels chemical,” the author told him. Science! At last, something he could understand. The vague metaphors of the first paragraph evaded him. The article didn’t end up feeling all that scientific; it continued to be vague and used circumstantial evidence to prove their point rather than inferential statistics. But the words “sexual attraction” continued to jump out at him.

He pulled out his phone and, after a moment’s hesitation, fired off a text to Theodore.

to Theodore: Do you have a crush on Annabelle?

Theodore responded immediately

to Scorpy Boy: huh? why?

Scorpius pressed lightly on the buttons as a way to occupy his fingers, trying to think of how to respond. 

to Theodore: Al asked. I want to know what having a crush on someone feels like. After a pause, he added: For research.

His friend took nearly three full minutes to respond, which felt like a lifetime. 

to Scorpy Boy: you want to talk to them all the time. their smile makes you feel good. your stomach gets butterflies (you get nervous and your stomach feels funny) when you talk to them. you like it when they touch you. you want to kiss them.

Scorpius closed his eyes and did a thought experiment. In movies, whenever the guy kissed the girl, it looked so fake and forced. He could never picture himself enjoying that. He pretended that Al was the guy leaning in and he was the girl. Oddly, he didn’t hate the idea. Instead, he felt a thrum in his bloodstream, like his heart flipped a switch to make his pulse race. A shivery, electric feeling wiggled down his spine into his stomach. He liked the idea of that very much. 

to Theodore: I think I have a crush on Al.

to Scorpy Boy: yeah, i thought so.

Scorpius frowned. How did he know?

to Theodore: What makes you say that?

to Scorpy Boy: idk. you look so happy talking to him. and you talk about him all the time.

Fair.

to Theodore: Now what? Does that make me gay? 

to Scorpy Boy: i mean. to answer your question of "now what,” ask him out? or talk to your dad? or think about what your sexuality is? it’s up to you. you don’t need to do something asap. you can just sit on your feelings for a moment. and having a crush on a guy makes you not-straight, but it doesn’t mean you’re gay, either. you can label yourself however you want to. that includes not using a label at all. this journey is yours alone. yikes, that last sentence was dramatic. i just mean that you only need to do what feels best to you.

After a minute or two, his phone vibrated again. 

to Scorpy Boy: i’m glad you felt comfortable telling me this. it means a lot. i’m happy that you trust me. 

He slid his phone shut before turning to Google once more. There was more research to be done from a different angle. 

When he left the library, slung under his arm were “Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda,” “Aristotle and Dante Discover the Secrets of the Universe, and “Angels in America.” They seemed to all be fiction books, but he’d take whatever he could get.

When he got home, he hardly said a word to his father before racing upstairs to pull out his school laptop. It was time to get to work.

*

A teardrop fell down his cheek. Scorpius closed the book and laid down on his bed. He was up far past his usual bedtime (it was already 10 o’clock!) but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He’d spent the whole day watching countless YouTube videos about homosexuality, bisexuality, pansexuality, coming out, the whole lot. Theodore had recommended some articles and said to avoid Urban Dictionary. 

He knew what he was feeling. He had a crush on Al Potter. Definitely, for sure, with his entire body, heart, mind, and soul, he wanted to kiss him until he crumbled to dust and even then try to kiss him some more. Now that he had words for his feelings, it was all he could think about.

The next question was: what on Earth was he going to do?

*

The next morning, he decided to consult someone very trusted.

“Dad?” Scorpius called out. His father made a noise that suggested he was in the kitchen. He raced downstairs and slid through the doorway. “What do you think about gay people?”

“Um.” His father sucked in a breath, abandoning his cup of coffee on the table and turning to face him. “I think… that everyone has the right to love who they want to?” It seemed as though his first deep breath wasn’t enough, as he took another one before saying, “Why are you asking?”

Scorpius shrugged before saying, “I was curious. I thought I might be. Gay, that is. Or I think I might be. I don’t know. It’s very confusing.

It never occurred to him for even a split second to try to come up with a lie. First off, lying to his dad was impossible. It was like he had some chip embedded in his brain that sounded an alarm every time Scorpius tried. Secondly, what would he have to lie about? It’s not like he did anything wrong. While people in the videos had had varying reactions from their family, he knew that he would always be his father’s son. His dad had put up with all of his other eccentricities. It wasn’t like he had changed overnight. He had simply found the words for what he was feeling.

There was an even longer pause this time. His father blinked at him, face slack. Then, he took two giant steps toward him and hugged him tightly. “I love you. Don’t ever forget that.”

“Okay. I love you too.” It was strange for his father to be so openly affectionate. Not that Scorpius thought he wasn’t loved; he knew that deep in his bones. His father tended to show it in other ways, though, rather than words.

“Do you… do you have any questions?” His father took a seat at the kitchen table. Scorpius joined him.

“Many,” Scorpius admitted. The videos had been helpful, but he had a lot more to parse through. 

“I’m not an expert, but I can try my best to help.”

Scorpius opened his mouth and had at it.


	7. Chapter 7

There was a difference between feeling these messy, confusing, bizarre feelings for Al and knowing that there was a name for them, Scorpius learned quickly. See, he was not used to knowing something and not being able to share it. He loved sharing what he knew. But as he’d learned from his videos and his father, not everyone would react kindly to it. And the person he had to worry most about was Al.

Even though the other boy radiated kindness from his fingertips to his toes (despite his ability to deliver a nasty check), it was more probable than not that Al didn’t like other boys. Hockey was a very masculine sport. Scorpius stubbornly ignored the fact that the other boy didn’t seem to match the hockey stereotype. And if he did like boys, there was another probability game about whether he liked him back. And that was another risk. Altogether, the risks were far too great for him to say anything.

That didn’t stop him from wanting to say things. All the time. During every conversation.

“My dad is bothering me again,” Al confessed during another one of their between-practice chats.

“Your dad?” 

“Yeah, he’s been on my ass lately. All this shit about ‘I thought you were done acting like you weren’t a part of this family.’” Swearing was gross, in Scorpius’ opinion, but suddenly he decided that it was very attractive. He was so incredibly biased. Al put his head in his hands before dragging his fingers through his thick, curly hair. It made the curls stick up in funny ways. It didn’t look bad on him, though. Scorpius was quickly learning that it was impossible for the other boy to look bad. “Just because I snap at my brother sometimes doesn’t mean I hate him.”

“Huh.” Scorpius pondered the predicament for a moment, trying to get the fog to clear from his brain. “Apologize to your brother? I don’t know, I don’t have siblings.”

“See, I hate apologizing in the first place, but I’m also not going to apologize for yelling at him for being a dick. He deserved it. He was being a dick.”

Being rational took the focus of nearly every cell in his body. “Well, I don’t know both sides, so that might affect the outcome, but I believe you.”

“Thanks.” Al let out a slightly worrying scream of frustration. Scorpius wanted to rub his shoulders but worried that would be overstepping things. His father did that to him when he was younger and had meltdowns. He decided to do it anyway for a moment, to quench the urge to be in contact with Al. Realizing his attraction towards the other boy made him overthink everything he wanted to do. The other boy relaxed into his touch, so he hoped he was doing the right thing. “I’m just… so tired of my family.”

“Why?”

“My dad, well. You know about the great Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived.” He didn’t frame it as a question.

Scorpius remembered Clarice talking about Al’s dad, but he didn’t recall her using that nickname for him. “The Boy Who Lived through what?”

“He got shot by some asshole and then came back and won a championship the next year. He was a beast. And my mom, she did college hockey, won a few awards, became the first female sports analyst for a major television network. My brother does hockey in college. My sister does middle school hockey. Everyone does fucking hockey.”

“So do you.”

“I didn’t want to. At first. I didn’t want to be like everyone else. I was tired of everyone comparing me to my dad. I look a lot like him, you know.”

Scorpius wondered how attractive Al’s father could be, seeing as his son was extremely beautiful. The words were hovering on his tongue, but he decided to bite them back. He wasn’t sure that would be considered successful flirting (another thing that required a lot of explanation, but that came from Theodore, not his dad). 

“I loved skating with my family as a kid, but when my dad tried to enroll me in little kid hockey, I screamed and cried the whole time. Coach made fun of me for it, I remember. I didn’t play hockey again until high school.”

“What made you start again?”

Al chewed on his lip and looked up to the ceiling. “My dad and I argued a lot when I was younger. Like… every day a lot. I never wanted to understand his perspective when it came to things because I felt like he had it so easy. Like, everyone adored him. He was famous. Me, on the other hand? I was getting shoved against lockers all day because I wasn’t like my dad. I felt like no one in my family understood what it was like, being so… strange.

“One day, though, I guess I wasn’t feeling as grumpy as normal and he sat down next to me and said, ‘I was bullied too, you know.’ And then we talked. Talked for the first time about real things, you know? And I realized that he actually really did know where I was coming from, after all, and I was the one who was refusing to see his side of things. We agreed to be honest with each other after that. And one of the things I was honest about was being curious about trying hockey. So he coached me and I tried out for the team that winter.” Al chuckled. “I guess I ended up being better than everyone thought.”

Scorpius sat for a moment, allowing Al’s words to sit and stew momentarily. “You’re a really cool guy” tumbled out of his mouth. It seemed like the two of them were in the business of being somewhat honest.

Al beamed. His dimple looked like it was ready to jump off of the side of his face. “Thanks.” He ruffled Scorpius’ hair, which made his heart do all sorts of complicated acrobatics that he was certain would award him a very high difficulty score if he attempted to replicate it during a program. “Are you nervous about your competition?”

“Very.” It was proper crunch time now. Clarice had him scheduled for extra practices to ensure that there was no way he could screw up even the tiniest part of the routine. He could do the program in his sleep at this point. Scorpius glanced at the clock. Any minute now, she’d amble up behind them and tell Al that he should get going in a sickly sweet voice. 

Right on schedule, he heard some clipboard-related sounds and, “Scorpius! On ice in one!”

“One,” he mumbled back, getting to his feet and stretching his arms.

“Do you think she’ll have my head if I watch?” Al asked through his teeth. Scorpius shrugged, genuinely not knowing the answer. Half of him wanted Al there, and the other half felt the vines starting to wrap around the base of his skull. He scratched at his neck, trying to dislodge them. If the other boy was coming to watch his competition, he needed to be able to do the program without worrying about what he thought. 

“Will you still hang out with me if I fall on my face?” Scorpius said. It was supposed to stay in his mouth instead of in the space between them, but it ended up there somehow. 

“Yep!” Al said cheerfully before giving him a gentle shove that made Scorpius feel like he just drank an entire liter of seltzer water. “It’s showtime!”

He took the ice, feeling the vines snake around his fingers and chew on his sweaty palms. He shook out his hands a few times before assuming the starting position, allowing the required smile to grace his lips.


	8. Chapter 8

There are two major parts to a figure skating competition: short program and long program. The short program is more fixed; there are more requirements that have to be completed. The long program is the more creative part of the competition. The long program (or free skate) is where a skater can really show off their talents.

Scorpius knew all of this by heart, of course. He’s known it from the moment he entered the competition circuit. He regurgitated this information to Al about fifteen times in the locker room three days before the fateful Saturday that would determine if he advanced or not (as this particular competition was a qualifier). Al was taking notes on a scrap piece of paper. 

“You know there’s a difference between hockey skates and figure skates? There’s teeth at the end of my blade, but not yours. I think you’d probably fall over in my skates,” Scorpius was saying. It was off topic, but at this point, he had long since stopped trying to care about what he said, because he really had no control over his mouth anymore when it came to Al. He was supposed to be reminding the other boy what Theodore and Annabelle looked like and where they’d meet him.

To the other boy’s credit, even though he definitely knew that fact already, he smiled and stood up to meet Scorpius’ gaze. Scorpius gnawed on his lower lip and fidgeted. Making eye contact would surely cause him to explode. He took a deep breath and looked into his friend’s - friend was a good word, a safe one, it made him feel very safe and happy and was not at all related to romantic feelings - eyes. It was a mistake; he knew that. Looking at them made him want to say that they were beautiful.

“Your eyes are very beautiful.” If he were Al, he would’ve said ‘Fuck’s sake,’ or something like that, but he wasn’t. He was Scorpius Malfoy and he loathed cursing with a passion (he didn’t mind it so much when other people did it, as long as they weren’t cursing at him for any reason, but he hated how foul he sounded when the words were spewing from his lips). Instead, he made a bizarre face and started babbling again. “Sorry, I was just looking at them, they’re green, it’s a cool shade of green, I am so nervous about Saturday’s competition that I think I’m going to turn into a puddle. Will you put me in a bottle? If I do that? As a keepsake? I’d appreciate it.”

Al had turned a fantastic shade of red and was looking at the ceiling. His lips were moving but no sound was coming out. After what felt like an hour but logically could have only been maybe ten seconds at most, the other boy cleared his throat and said, “Yes, I’ll put you in a bottle if you turn into liquid. But you won’t, because you are very capable. And brave.”

Scorpius felt like his limbs were glowing. Was that normal? Was that another symptom of a crush? He had no idea. God, what he’d give to have Theodore sit on his shoulder and whisper advice when he needed it. On second thought, maybe not; Theodore would definitely witness too many strange moments caused by Scorpius’ awkwardness and probably pass out from second-hand embarrassment. “Thank you. That- that means a lot.”

“Okay, so three days from now at eleven in the morning I’ll meet Annabelle and Theodore three rows above where the hot-dog cart usually parks. I remember what they look like. You’re going fifth in the short program and tenth in the long program,” Al rattled off. A lopsided grin crossed his face. “Not that I need to know that. They’ll announce your name.”

“Just in case,” Scorpius muttered.

“I understand.” Actually, scratch what he said earlier: he felt like a firework exploding across the night sky. Al understood him. And Scorpius really, truly believed that. No one had ever bothered to do that before. 

“Why are you so perfect?” he breathed. 

The red tinge on his friend’s face darkened even further, somehow. “Me? Perfect?” He let out a breathy, stuttering chuckle. The room was hotter than the deepest circle of Hell. Scorpius wanted to reach out a hand and trace the smattering of freckles on Al’s nose. Instead, he balled his fingers into fists and tried not to blurt anything else. To his surprise, Al didn’t give him the chance to. “If anyone’s perfect, it’s you.” 

Scorpius scrunched up his nose. “I’m the farthest thing from perfect that exists. I have panic attacks, I talk too much, I blurt, I’m a know-it-all, I’m embarrassing, I’m way too into figure skating, I’m gay, I’m so socially awkward it’s painful for others to watch, I don’t get a lot of social things that I’m supposed to get just because everyone else knows them, I’m a freak-”

“Woah, woah, woah.” Al held up his hands. “And that stops you from being perfect?”

“I listed my flaws. Perfect means no flaws. Ergo, I am not perfect.” Scorpius tilted his head to the side. 

“I…” Al trailed off. “Did you say you were gay?”

Scratch what he said earlier; now would be the perfect time let a curse or three loose. He decided to go the route of no resistance, thinking of what his dad had told him earlier: ‘Scorpius, if someone doesn’t accept you for who you are, they are not deserving of you. Walk away.’ He hoped he wouldn’t have to walk away at the end of this conversation. “Yes.” And then his traitorous mouth started saying exactly what was on his mind, which was, “Are you?”

Al blinked at him, wide-eyed. He glanced over his shoulder before leaning in close enough to make Scorpius shiver. “Yeah, I am. Well, bi, but. Yes.” He took a step back and let out a deep breath before smiling shakily. “Haven’t… I haven’t told many people that yet. But, Scorp, it’s not a flaw to be gay.”

“I was worried you might see it as one. Clearly I didn’t need to.” Al let out an enormous laugh at that, enough that he had to put his hands on his knees. When he straightened up again, he wiped away a tear. “Still, though, even if that isn’t a flaw, I don’t understand how that makes me perfect.”

The other boy brought his thumb to his mouth and chewed at the skin there, looking steadily at Scorpius’ feet. Scorpius frowned. That was all the stuff he did when he was nervous. Was Al nervous? Why? “I… I think you’re perfect. Because of all of that. Not despite.” 

“Really?” 

“If you saw yourself the way I saw you, you would understand.”

“I wish there was a way to view yourself from a third person perspective,” Scorpius mused, not allowing the compliment to properly stick because if it did, he’d probably confess all sorts of sappy things that would drive Al far, far away. “I’ve read studies that suggest that we wouldn’t recognize ourselves from that angle.”

“What about out-of-body experiences?” Al asked. Scorpius bit his lip to stop a smile from springing forth. The smile emerged despite his best efforts. 

“You’re so smart,” he said. Goodness, his mouth was functioning by itself today. On the bright side, Al didn’t complain. He was still flushing (someone must have turned up the temperature in the locker room, that was the only reasonable explanation). “That’s a good point. I’ve never had one of those.” 

Al glanced down at his watch. “Shit, I’ve got to go. But I’ll see you on Saturday.” He took a step forward, closer to Scorpius and farther from the door. 

“Where are you going? The door is that way." Thank you, mouth, very cool, you don't always need to say exactly what you're thinking. 

“Uh. Yes. Knew… that.” Al stayed frozen in place. “Can I give you a hug? Um, for good luck? Actually, that was a stupid idea. I’m just going to… go now.” He turned around and started shuffling towards the door.

He thought for a moment and decided that a hug from Al would feel comforting, not stifling. And maybe he could use it as a good memory to steady himself before the competition. “No, don’t go. That sounds quite nice.” 

“Okay.” Al took a few steps forward before coming to a stop just a few inches away. He went onto his tip-toes and tentatively lifted his arms up before fiercely wrapping them around Scorpius’ shoulders. Scorpius wasn’t quite sure where to put his arms. Was the waist too suggestive? But that was the only place he could put them? He decided to loop them just above the other boy’s waist.

Al smelled like sweat and vanilla. His hair was tickling his nose, but it was a nice tickle. Oh, no, what if it made him sneeze? That would be embarrassing. Luckily, the hug didn’t last long enough for that. Al pulled away after a few moments, his face scrunched up from a smile.

“Okay. Hello. Um, do we hug? Is that a thing we do now?” _Because hugging sounds wonderful. That was a terrific hug. I’d like to do that every day for the rest of my life, thanks._

“I wasn’t sure whether we should, in this new version of us that I had in my head.” The other boy’s smile still lingered, his dimples waving a cheery hello. Scorpius adored those dimples. Almost as much as he adored Al.

“I think it’s good. I liked it.” _What does he mean by new version of us?_ Before he could clarify, Al grabbed his things and headed towards the door.

“Good.” He was nearly out of the room when he stopped to look back at Scorpius one more time. Scorpius waved at him. He waved back before walking out the door.

Scorpius sat down on the bench, a breath coming out of him in a whoosh. A smile was latching onto his face unbidden. That was… wonderful. And Al was gay, too! Bi, actually, which means bisexual, which means both boys and girls. Which means that there was a chance that Al liked him back. A small one. But it was a possibility. 

He dwelled on that possibility all during practice. He didn’t make a single mistake. Perhaps Al’s theory of a good-luck hug was right.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> song is "Fool" by Cavetown!

There was nothing more terrifying than waiting on the outskirts of the rink before the competition started. Actually, there was: pausing the moment before he started the program. Clarice was standing beside him, her arms crossed, her expression neutral. They never spoke before he competed. He tugged at the tight black pants that were a part of his costume. They were probably a touch too tight, but it was too late now. It was better than some of the costumes he’d been forced into. His top was fairly simple; dark blue long-sleeve with a little gold around the collar. 

“From the Wynnewood Skating Club, please welcome Scorpius Malfoy!” She raised her eyebrows at him as though she was pushing him onto the ice. It had the same effect. He nodded once to himself before mounting the ice and skating to the center, sparing a small wave to the crowd. 

It was the anticipation that killed him. This was the moment. He had to perform, now or never, no turning back. Everyone’s eyes on him. Not quite total silence, but close enough. It was enough to make him want to puke on his skates, but he had never done that yet and wasn’t planning on doing that today.

He wanted to look to the crowd to see Al and Annabelle and Theodore. He knew where they were sitting. But he had a feeling that if he saw Al, he’d fumble just like he had the very first day. Scorpius was better with managing his nerves around the other boy, but he wasn’t the best at it yet. 

The familiar vines of fear creeped in, ensnaring his hands, his chest, and his throat. Scorpius took a deep breath, filling his lungs with oxygen, trying to shake his anxiety as best he could. The music would start any second now. Then, he could slip into the zone.

His short program had gone pretty well. There were nine other boys competing, and he was in a solid second place. His next performance would determine if he was able to advance onto the next round of competition or not. No big deal. It was a big deal, but he had to channel some of his inner Clarice and try his hardest to not freak out. 

The first note of his music played and he stopped thinking. An unusual feat for him, but a necessary one for competition. The next seven or so minutes would be conducted through what he liked to call his “caveman brain,” when he got so focused all he could concentrate on were the moves themselves. 

The triple salchow? Flawless. His turns? Envied. He found himself grinning as he skated backwards, feeling more confident than he ever had before. Scorpius could practically do this routine in his sleep with all of the rehearsal he’d gone through. And the extra practice on his own. He loved skating before, but with the extra enticement of Al Potter being there waiting for him, he had spent nearly every waking moment available there. And it was paying off.

He approached the double axel, Al’s face clear in his mind. There were no vines this time. He knew Al was watching, but he also believed in himself. His landing wasn’t ideal, but it was good enough. Scorpius was certain that he had cemented his place as a finalist.

When he finished, he smiled so widely he thought he might split his face in half, throwing his arms up towards the ceiling, chest heaving. There was a smattering of applause before he skated off, back towards Clarice.

She appraised him coolly for a moment before patting him on the shoulder. “That’s your best performance yet.” 

“Really?”

“When have I ever lied to you?” _A few times,_ he wanted to say, but he couldn’t think of immediate examples so he decided to keep his mouth shut. He sat down, swinging his legs about, unable to stop the happiness from bleeding out of him.

“Careful, you might cut someone in half.” His skates! He had forgotten that he was wearing them. Scorpius stopped kicking his feet immediately. Clarice chuckled lowly before returning her attention to the next competitor.

When the scores were announced, he clutched the edge of his seat so he wouldn’t bite his lip too hard and split it (a mistake he’d made once and wasn’t keen on repeating). “In third place, Jeremy Chang, with a score of 49.48. In second place…” He closed his eyes, hoping beyond all hopes, that it wouldn’t be his name. “Alec Volkov, with a score of 56.19.” Scorpius nearly jumped to his feet with excitement. “And in first place, with a score of 60.13, Scorpius Malfoy. Congratulations to all our competitors.”

Clarice nodded at him, a hint of a smile on her face. She adjusted her perfect ponytail. “Nice work, Malfoy. Go collect your medal. And then celebrate. You deserve it.”

The next few minutes were a blur. He was recognized with the other top finishers. They gave him a flashy gold medal. His father hugged him and gave him a bouquet of flowers. “I’ve gotta go find Al- my friends,” Scorpius said, shrugging apologetically.

“Al? Is that the boy you told me about?” Scorpius nodded. His father looked at him with an expression that was difficult to read before smiling. “I should meet him.”

“Dad, don’t,” Scorpius pleaded, a wave of embarrassment washing over him. Maybe he shouldn’t have told his father everything in such extensive detail. Now his father would make a big deal about it when he wasn’t even sure that Al felt the same way.

 _Al hugging him, the scent of vanilla and just plain Al in his nose, Al telling him he can do this, Al comforting him after a panic attack moments after they met, Al, Al, Al. Scorpius blinked once, hard, trying to focus._

“You think I’ll embarrass you?”

“No…” He trailed off, looking away. He was the worst liar in the whole world. His father patted him on the shoulder.

“Don’t worry. I would never. I’m not clueless, you know. How do you think I met your mother?” Scorpius adored this story, but it wasn’t the time. He caught a glimpse of his friends running at him furiously.

“Sorry, Dad. I’ve gotta go, I’m about to be overwhelmed,” he said solemnly before walking towards his mini-stampede of companions. 

“Remember what I told you?” Al shouted, his hair wild and messy. Scorpius bit back a grin. The other boy was a few paces ahead of Annabelle and Theodore. He wrapped Scorpius in an enormous hug. All of the air was squeezed out of him at once, but he didn’t mind. He buried his face in Al’s shoulder, trying to hide his blush.

“I told you to shoot for platinum. And you did!” Scorpius could kiss him. He really could. Al had let go, but they were so close together, their noses only a few inches apart. If he leaned in and closed his eyes, what would the other boy do? Would he lean in, too? 

“Nice hardware.” Annabelle’s voice jerked him back to reality. She was tapping on his medal. “Good job! We’re so very proud.”

Theodore placed a hand on his forehead, fanning himself. “You had all of the grandmas in the audience swooning.”

Scorpius frowned. “They should really consider their families before doing that.”

“Dork.” Al knocked his hips into his. Scorpius stumbled and looked over at Theodore, who was hiding a smile behind a fist. He tried to convey how confused he was to his other friend through his eyes, but Theodore was whispering something in Annabelle’s ear. A knowing smirk was growing on her face.

Scorpius decided to knock Al’s hips right back. The other boy’s eyes widened before a smile lit up his whole face.

“I’ll get you for that one!” Scorpius didn’t react in time. Al poked him in the side. 

“Not fair! I told you I was ticklish in confidence! You are so rude!” He crossed his arms and wrinkled his nose, fighting the urge to tickle Al right back. It wouldn’t be right. Even though he wanted to be near the other boy all the time. Was this normal? He was seconds away from asking it when Al sidled up next to him and slung his arm around his shoulders. Scorpius stiffened on instinct before relaxing.

“How can I make it up to you?” Al’s tongue was poking out of his teeth. It was so endearing, Scorpius could scream.

He pretended to scratch his head for a moment as though he was really pondering. “I’ll think of ways.” 

Annabelle stepped forward, a sly smile on her face. Theodore was wearing a matching expression. “Alright, lovebirds, I gotta go bring Theodore home.” Scorpius squeaked. He didn’t dare look in Al’s direction. “Scorp, see you at school?”

“Yessiree. Or yes ma’ameriee. I don’t… Yep. School. Soon.” He nodded furiously as he spoke, trying not to seem flustered. Obviously, he did not succeed. Theodore was laughing now, his shoulders shaking. He hugged his two best friends in the world, thinking of all the ways he could get back at them, before waving goodbye.

Scorpius turned back to look at Al, an apology already on his lips. Al was blushing bright red and his eyes were wide. He was looking at Theodore and Annabelle’s backs as they walked away, his mouth gaping open. “Al? You alright?”

Al snapped to attention the moment Scorpius spoke. “Yep! Feeling fantastic. Er, anyway, what did you…”

“Scorpius!” Scorpius fought the urge to roll his eyes. His father was striding towards them. People scrambled out of his way. His dad always gave off an aura of importance that made people part. “There you are. I have to start dinner soon.”

“Er, Mr. Malfoy?” Al piped up, his voice quiet. “I can… I can drive Scorpius home. If he wants to stay for a bit longer that is.”

His father turned to face Al, raising his eyebrows. “Should I trust you to get him home safely?”

Al swallowed before nodding. “I’m a great driver! Clean record, had my license for a year now. Very safe!” 

“I won’t be out too long! Back before dinner. We just want to talk for a little longer,” Scorpius added. His dad smiled at him a little too knowingly.

“Hm. I guess I’ll allow it. As long as my son is returned in one piece, you should have nothing to worry about, Albus.” Al was standing as stiff as a rod, almost like a soldier is instructed to stand, his eyes even wider than before. His father wrapped Scorpius in a hug before walking away.

“Your dad is fucking terrifying,” Al said out of the corner of his mouth, a bead of sweat trickling down his temple. Scorpius laughed.

“He is a gigantic teddy bear who’s good at pretending to be scary.” He thought about all the times he, as a toddler, watched Disney movies and how his dad did an excellent impression of Hades from Hercules. It had been his favorite thing as a kid, never failing to make him laugh. “I’m excited to check out this car of yours!”

“I’m parked in the front lot.” They chattered away as they walked towards Al’s car, Scorpius’ nerves rising every minute. When Al pointed out a beat-up blue truck, Scorpius felt like he was going to explode. It was almost as bad as his pre-competition nerves. 

He got into the front seat and buckled up. It was very clean. There was a mount for Al’s phone, probably, and a cat sticker on a dashboard, one of the kinds that you’d get at the doctor’s office. Somehow, it felt very Al. 

Al started up the truck and pulled out of the parking lot, putting his hand behind Scorpius’ seat. Scorpius fought his blush valiantly but ultimately to no avail. For some reason, Al putting the truck in reverse was attractive? He did not understand his own brain anymore.

“We can drive around for a bit before I take you home,” Al said, glancing over when they were stopped at a red light. “Want to put some music on? Here, you can connect my phone.” He pressed a button before gesturing to the cupholder. “If you see a song you like, play it.” 

Scorpius looked at the phone. On the screen was a playlist called “Jamz!” He clicked on the first song he saw. 

_I am just a fool to keep on chasing after nothing great_  
_You are just a fool to keep pretending that you're lovin' me_  
_I don't know where I'm supposed to go…_

“Hey! Cavetown! They’re great, aren’t they?” Al’s whole face lit up. He turned up the volume, nodding his head back in forth in time with the music.

“I don’t know them,” Scorpius admitted. “But I like this song so far.” He’d listened to a fair amount of music, but never anything like this. It sounded very different. But wonderful, in its own way.

“I like the sound, I like your voice, I like your mouth.” Al sang along to the lyrics, looking in Scorpius’ direction. Scorpius smiled, trying to convey everything he felt without knowing how. How could his teeth show how much he adored the other boy? How badly he wanted to kiss him? 

At the guitar solo, Al started properly headbanging, laughing loudly. Scorpius felt his heart swell with happiness. The other boy looked so carefree, so happy, so… 

“Hey.” They’d rolled to a stop in a pharmacy parking lot. Albus was leaning on the carrest, waggling his eyebrows. “Do you want to come to my next game? It’s a big one. The championships. Kinda like your championships. We’re playing next Friday.”

“I’ll come,” Scorpius answered in a heartbeat. He would follow Al to the corners of the world. It was probably unhealthy, but he couldn’t help it. He just felt so strongly for him. It was messing with his head. 

“And…” Al’s eyes darted away before returning to Scorpius’. Scorpius tilted his head, expectant. “We can do something after.” 

“What kind of something?” 

“We could get dinner. At… Monica’s, maybe? Downtown?”

Monica’s was an elegant, high-end Italian restaurant near the city center. It almost certainly had a dress code. And was definitely for couples only. Scorpius felt his eyes go wide. What was Al trying to say here? He definitely meant it as friends. _Don’t get your hope up, Scorpius. You should clarify, to make sure._ “As friends?”

Al’s smile faltered for a moment. “Sure. Yeah, as friends.” The bright light in his hazel eyes dimmed. He leaned back suddenly, dropping eye contact. “That’s… good. Sounds good.”

“I’m glad,” Scorpius said, feeling as though he had done something wrong but he wasn’t sure what it was. Was it what he said? Isn’t that what Al wanted? 

“Want to go home?” 

“Yeah.” Scorpius yawned, stretching his arms up. His ratty t-shirt rose up, exposing his stomach. He tucked it back in and noticed Al staring. When he looked up, his friend was staring resolutely at the dashboard, his green eyes swirling with something Scorpius didn’t understand. He had never felt so confused in his life. “I like talking to you.”

“Me too.” Al gripped the wheel so tightly his knuckles went white. “What’s your address?”

Scorpius told him. It was a forty-five minute drive home. He started nodding off ten minutes into the drive. Al wasn’t as talkative as he was before. The playlist was soothing; it was all soft guitar music that made him sleepy. 

The truck rolled to a stop. Scorpius blinked dopily. “Home already? Rats. I was hoping I could hang out with you longer.”

“Well, should’ve thought of that before you fell asleep in the passenger seat.” Al’s grin was tight. It looked like it was hurting him. Scorpius felt a rush of concern. Before he could say anything, Al clicked the button to unlock his door. “I’ll see you later. Have… have a nice dinner with your dad.”

“Yeah.” Scorpius leaned forward, hoping that maybe Al would lean in for a hug good-bye. His friend didn’t move a muscle. He leaned back, feeling a wave of disappointment crash over him. He was certain he’d caused whatever was bothering Al, but he couldn’t put his finger on what it was. “Al?”

“Yeah?” His friend didn’t turn to face him. Scorpius chewed on his lip, feeling like he was three inches tall.

“Are you mad at me?”

Al paused before shaking his head. “Of course not. It’s not your fault. Bye, Scorpius.”

When Al had pulled out of the driveway, Scorpius realized that was the first time in a long time that Al had called him by his full name.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for sticking w me thru this journey! :)

Scorpius arrived an hour early to Al’s game, feeling very much like an idiot. It looked like only the teams were there, and they weren’t even skating yet, so he skulked around on the bleachers, feeling very listless. 

Al had only texted him a handful of times since his competition. Scorpius was almost certain that he’d screwed things up royally, but he’d thought about it nearly all day every day for the past week and he had no idea what he possibly could’ve done.

He zoned out for awhile, his thoughts too overwhelming and loud in his ears. He read his book. He chewed on the skin next to his thumbnail.

Maybe Al would come see him. He would say what had happened. Maybe Scorpius could give him a good-luck hug and everything would be alright again. The vines were ensnaring him again. He took a deep breath and put his head between his knees. His brain needed a time-out.

Maybe Al had realized Scorpius’ feelings, he thought. Horror settled deep in his core. It rattled him, made him feel as though his bones were suddenly hollow. But how could he? He’d been his perfectly normal, friendly self. Well, “perfectly normal” didn’t describe him all too well. But that was beside the point.

Before he could reflect for too much longer, the referees were blowing their whistles to signal the beginning of the game. Scorpius winced at the sound. The puck hit the ice. Players jerked to life, scrabbling for the black disc, moving swiftly and elegantly into their positions. 

Hockey was pretty brutal. Scorpius always believed that at their level of competition, it couldn’t be that bad. The first game hadn’t been too nasty. Perhaps it was because there was more at stake, the players were being rougher on each other. He cringed as another player was sent flying. For whatever reason, the referees weren’t calling any fouls. Wasn’t that their job?

He sat back down. He had been standing so close to the rink that his breath was fogging the glass. Absently, he drew a small, smiling face. No one would see it, but he’d know it was there. Moments after he lifted his finger from the glass and took a step back, a player for the Badgers careened into the boards. Scorpius flinched.

If only Al could see him. He’d say he was being ridiculous. No, he wouldn’t. Al understood his hesitancy about the sport. The only thing figure skating and hockey had in common was the ice. The two sports were like rugby and dancing; different kinds of athleticism, different kinds of people. Though - wait a moment. Scorpius remembered reading an article about how some American football players took ballet as an alternative way to strengthen their muscles. 

And Al wasn’t that different from him. He was clever, and funny, and had a beautiful smile, and the world’s best dimples, and… Snap out of it, Scorpius. You need to find a way to be friends again, and thinking about him like that won’t help.

Snapping out of it was easier said than done. In fact, his mind was still in a bit of a fog when a member of the opposing team smashed Al against the wall. 

Ordinarily, checking was never that gruesome, though it left a few nasty bruises. But this check looked different. The guy was much taller and bigger than Al, and he had used his hips. Al was propelled into the air, his body limp. Time seemed to slow down. 

It sped up again when Al hit the ice with an unmistakable crunch, his leg sticking out at an awkward angle. Scorpius stood up instinctually, his hands flying to his mouth. Al would get up right? Of course he would.

Al laid there, not lifting his head, as whistles blew. An athletic trainer ran onto the ice. She nearly slipped in her haste to reach Al. Scorpius sat back down. The vines were quick to slip around his throat, threatening to tighten up until he was gasping for air.

Scorpius took a deep breath. There was no point in panicking. It wouldn’t help anyone. It took almost five minutes, but he finally convinced his body to stop shaking and his breathing to settle down. He didn’t dare look around at other people for fear that they were staring at him.

Zamboni shavings are full of human excrement and biohazardous waste, his brain told him. His brain did not know if Al is okay, so instead it regurgitated disgusting facts about hockey ice shavings at him. Thanks, brain, he wanted to say, but people would have looked at him like he was a freak, so he didn’t. 

Al was moved off of the ice in a stretcher. All the players on the ice were kneeling - what was that for? - but the moment the referee made a signal, they returned to their normal positions. How could they be normal right now? After witnessing what happened? Weren’t they terrified? Were they going to punish the player that did that to his Al?

His Al? Goodness gracious. His brain was a mess today. Thankfully, Annabelle and Theodore weren’t there to tease him. Unthankfully (was that even a word? He couldn’t bring himself to care), they weren’t there to make him feel better.

He rose from his seat, unable to keep himself from sitting still any longer. Scorpius decided that he was going to go find Al. He couldn’t bear waiting around acting like everything was okay when it really, really, really wasn’t. He took off, jogging slightly. 

It took him only thirty seconds to find the trainer’s office. He slowed to a normal pace once he located the room. He heard Al talking quietly, the voice of what must have been Al’s parents, and someone else speaking calmly and clearly. 

“Would you like us to call an ambulance, or would you prefer to drive?” That was the trainer’s voice. Scorpius hung back, knowing that he probably didn’t belong.

“We’ll drive,” Al’s mother said, her voice low. “Thank you, though. Harry, can you support his shoulder? James, maybe stand back until we need you?” There was mumbling and a creaking noise; Scorpius assumed that was Al getting lifted into position to stand. 

He moved farther down the corridor to make it seem like he wasn’t there, anxiously waiting to see Al, even though he definitely, clearly was and there was no way to avoid it. The door pushed open with some effort to reveal Al leaning heavily on his father’s shoulders, one leg dangling in the air, his face slick with sweat. 

His friend’s eyes went wide when he saw him waiting. “Scorpius?”

“I needed - wanted - to make sure you were okay. I got so worried up in the stands - that looked like an awful hit, it was so scary from our angle but I’m sure it was scarier for you - and I couldn’t stand sitting there pretending like everything was okay - plus the game is boring when you aren’t playing so… here I am, I guess.” Scorpius waved his hands. If he didn’t feel like an idiot before, he really felt like one now.

“I’m going… to the hospital. Visit me then,” Al said. He screwed up his face when his father guided him through another step.

Scorpius nodded. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Visit tomorrow,” Al’s dad supplied, a look flashing across his face. Whatever it was, it was gone in an instant. “You must be Scorpius. I’ve heard a lot about you. But now’s not a good time, son.”

“Right.” Scorpius bobbed his head. “Tomorrow.”

The moment hospital visiting hours opened, Scorpius appeared in the Emergency Room waiting area. He asked a nurse who said she’d be right with him. She said that about fifteen minutes ago, but he was patient. He didn’t mind waiting as long as he got to see him. 

Half an hour later, Scorpius was trailing behind a nurse through twisting corridors before she slowed to a stop. She gestured him in before walking away briskly.

Al’s dad was there, drinking a coffee and reading the newspaper. Scorpius knocked on the edge of the door, feeling very out of place.

“Oh! Come in.” He put down the newspaper. “Al, Scorpius is here to see you.”

Al seemed to be asleep in bed, but the moment his dad spoke, he started to sit up before groaning. “Ouch. Forgot that kills. Dad, mind giving me a minute?” His dad nodded. Al sucked in his lower lip. “Alone?”

His dad nodded again, this time moving to stand up. He fixed Al with a sharp look. “Yell immediately if you need anything.”

“Okay, okay.” His dad left the room. Al rolled his eyes. “Dads, am I right?”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Scorpius gingerly sat down on the edge of the bed. He gestured vaguely in the area of Al’s leg, which was currently being supported by a sling from the ceiling. That didn’t seem to be comfortable at all. “What’s going on with your leg?”

“They’re waiting for results from a scan to confirm that I broke something, but they’re not entirely sure what I broke. Or how many bones I broke. They think it’s my ankle area. Then I’ve gotta go figure out if I need a cast or crutches or whatever.” Scorpius noticed dark circles forming under the other boy’s eyes. Without thinking about it, he reached over to stroke Al’s cheek. Al flinched away.

“Sorry, was that not okay?” Scorpius felt very small. He sat on his hand to prevent himself from doing something stupid again.

“No. I mean. Yes.” Al ran his hands through his hair, a frustrated sigh leaving his lips. “You’re confusing. You know that? You do all these things that make me think you like me back, but then you turn around and make sure that you want us to be friends. What’s with that? I don’t understand you.”

Scorpius sucked in a little breath. “Wait, what do you mean? What are you saying?”

“I don’t how I can make it any clearer. I asked you out. To Monica’s, remember? And you said, ‘As friends?’”

“That was asking me out?” Scorpius’ voice went very high towards the end. He cleared his throat. “You like me? As in, you have a crush on me?”

“Yes. How many times do you want me to say it? Are you having fun, torturing me?” Al laid back against the pillows, turning his face away.

“No, no, no, no. I misunderstood. It… I was…” Scorpius took a deep breath, trying to calm his swirling thoughts. “Ask me out again. I think I’d say yes.” 

Al blinked. Then he blinked again, hard, before his gaze settled on Scorpius. “You… you think you would say yes?”

“This is… this is very new to me. Being gay. It’s like being asked a history question and not knowing the answer. That is unfamiliar to me. I know the answers to almost every question I’ve encountered. And when I don’t know the answer, I do research.”

Al frowned. “I’m not going to be your human experiment.”

“I know.”

A silence fell over them before Al sighed and turned his head away. “I don’t want to hear this. This is the last thing I need right now.”

Scorpius put his hand on Al’s knee. “Is this okay?”

Al shook his head, almost in disbelief. Scorpius couldn’t tell anymore. “Yes. No. I don’t fucking know. Are you getting some enjoyment out of this? Because I’m not.”

“You didn’t let me finish earlier. Al, does a crush feel like there’s something seriously wrong with your stomach? I feel like I’m constantly about to vomit at your feet whenever I see you. Maybe that’s because I have an anxiety disorder. Let me try again. I messed this up. I took a quiz online a few weeks ago that was supposed to tell you if you’re gay. I got 100% straight the first time, but then I let myself actually answer the questions the way you’re supposed to and I got 100% gay. I took the Kinsey scale test next and got a 6. I’ve taken all of the online quizzes you can possibly find, reputable or not. I read books that I checked out from the library. I watched YouTube for maybe five hours a day, people talking about their experiences. I asked Theodore. I asked Annabelle. I asked my dad. That’s what I mean by research.”

Scorpius took a deep breath. Al was staring up at him, his mouth wide open, staying perfectly still. He rushed to speak again, worried that the other boy wouldn’t let him say everything he needed to say. “I would never use you as a research subject. While empirical research is ideal for getting good results, it doesn’t apply to this situation. It would be selfish.”

“I’d let you.”

Scorpius frowned. “You shouldn’t. Also, you weren’t letting me five minutes ago.”

“Maybe.” There was a long pause. Albus groaned loudly. “You can… you can put your hand back on my knee. If you want.”

“I can?” Scorpius’ eyebrows creased together. He wasn’t expecting that. He expected Al to order him out of the room. 

“You can do a lot more than that,” Al said, his head flopping over to one side, a lazy grin stretching across his face. Scorpius almost cried when he saw the dimples return. How he missed them!

“I think the pain is making you loopy. Let’s start with the knee, love.” 

“Love?”

“Is that okay? I read that some people like pet names. But I also know it’s good to ask for consent, but I wasn’t quite sure how to do that with a nickname?” 

Al cracked a grin. Even submerged in his hospital bed with his leg in a cast, he was still his beautiful, wonderful self. “Yeah, I think it’s pretty good. I just need to come up with one for you.” 

“Take your time.” Scorpius took a deep breath. “I’m sorry for misunderstanding you. Words aren’t my strong suit, especially around you, because I look at you and suddenly I don’t know how to think straight anymore.”

“Think straight. Haha, get it?” Scorpius blinked. Al smiled, patting Scorpius’ hand. “Because you’re gay.”

“Oh! Right! Yes!” He blushed. “That’s a perfect example. But I hope-”

“Scorp.” Scorpius’ mouth snapped shut immediately. “Like I’ve said. I like you because you’re a weirdo. Not in spite of it.” Al rose to a sitting position with substantial effort, gritting his teeth.

“Do you need help?”

“Yeah, I was trying to get myself situated so I could kiss you. If you could just close your eyes and lean in, that would be fantastic.” Scorpius felt all of the blood in his body rush to his face. Al was blushing furiously, too. “If that’s okay with you.”

“Perfect! Ideal! Um, I’ve never done this before, so I’m sorry if I’m terrible at it, I would’ve practiced if I had known. I don’t know how I would’ve practiced, but I would’ve at least tried to. For you.” Al was chuckling silently, his shoulders shaking. “Uh, sorry?”

“You don’t need to practice.” Al squeezed Scorpius’ fingers. “I can’t believe my first kiss is going to be in a hospital. It’s a miracle my parents haven’t come back yet.”

“Okay, so what do I do again? I just lean in and close my eyes?”

Al nodded before closing his eyes, so Scorpius did too. Why did people kiss with their eyes closed? It would probably be more awkward with them opened, he reasoned. But then how did people know where to go? Were they supposed to angle their faces? Scorpius was realizing that he was way, way, way out of his comfort zone.

But then Al’s nose bumped against his, bringing him back to reality. “Sorry!” Scorpius squeaked, cracking an eye open. Al was staring back at him, quickly making him forget how to speak. “Uh. I’ll stop talking now.”

“Good,” Al whispered, before connecting their lips together.

Scorpius wasn’t quite sure what a first kiss was supposed to feel like, but certainly he never imagined that it would be this nice. And weird. Nice and weird at the same time. He always pictured his first kiss being at his wedding with a nice, smart girl that his father approved of. Never in a hospital bed with a boy that he met through the ice skating rink. Though in a way, it made perfect sense.

Kissing was a bit strange, as a concept. Mashing people’s mouths together? Didn’t that seem rather unsanitary? Or weird? But actually, it felt wonderful. It made him feel like a helium balloon, floating out of his body towards the ceiling.

When they broke apart, Scorpius started at Al, wide-eyed, certain that even his neck was turning red at this point. Al put a hand on the back of his neck. “So?”

“That was fantastic. Great. Wonderful. I’m running out of synonyms because staring at you makes my brain stop working.” 

“Me, too,” Al said, his voice soft, his eyes glimmering. He was rubbing the back of Scorpius’ knuckles with his thumb. “So, how does Monica’s sound? When I can walk again, of course.”

“You know I’d push your wheelchair for you,” Scorpius mused. “It would probably be hard with all that cobblestone, though.”

“Worth it,” Al said, leaning back into his pillows. “Anything for you.”

Yes, indeed, the 17th of December was a disaster for Scorpius Malfoy. He had made a fool out of himself in front of a cool hockey player and then was almost late for an exam. The next day, he’d sprained his ankle in front of said cool hockey player and had a panic attack in front of him. In fact, he was rather talented at mucking things up, it seemed. Perhaps he should add that to his résumé.

But in the end, they were all necessary disasters. Without them, how would he have met Al Potter in the first place?


End file.
